We All Began With Good Intent
by Nik216
Summary: Power, success, and stability, software designer Suzanne Jensen was married to one of the most powerful men in the world and had it all-but it wasn't always like this. Two years earlier, Suzanne Williams had lost her heart to a thief and paid the price. A short prequel to a much larger story I've got in the works. Eames/OC with a few from the team in tow. Rated M for the obvious!
1. Prologue

**AN: I am so excited by this...the muse planted this HUGE idea in my mind and I can't wait to show you all...wait a minute... : ).**

**As always, I own nothing but my own ideas and my continuing hope that Mr. Nolan and I share a cab one day and I talk him into a movie.  
**

**Please read and review...**

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_Los Angeles, California_

_2010_

It was the second Tuesday of the month, known all around the world as the day major software companies repair and release security patches for the key computer operating platforms, and perhaps the one day a month that Suzanne Jensen managed to get any time to herself.

She was the Vice President of Information Security and Technology at Jensen International Holdings, a massively successful multi-national company with a footprint on all major continents and annual transactions that exceeded the GDP of some countries. On any given fourteen hour work day she'd spend it on the phone with various company offices, writing contracts and discussing up to date security protocols, but on Patch Tuesday most companies were waiting for upgrades to come through and were generally silent. It was the only time that she had to actually work on her own programs.

At only 34 she was admittedly young to be sitting so high, and in such a prestigious position, but her talent was undeniable. She had all the creativity of an architect contained firmly in the grounded and rational mind of a software engineer; someone who could appreciate the concept of "thinking outside the box" while she managed to safely keep herself within one. Suzanne was articulate, intelligent and above all practical. It was why her husband had personally installed her in the position two years ago.

Richard Jensen, the 36 year-old heir and CEO of the company, had recruited her from her position as a software designer for a Swiss Bank in Zurich. He'd sauntered into her office on a Monday morning a little after eight-thirty, and she walked out with him three hours later with a box full of her belongings and a lucrative contract for the type of job that she could have only dreamt of.

Suzanne's bright green eyes fell from her state of the art flat screen dual monitor computer display to the antique silver frame of her wedding portrait that sat perched on the corner of her polished oak desk. It was quite clear that Mr. Jensen had not only eyed her talent when he recruited her to the company. Richard pursued her relentlessly to begin a romantic relationship, and she was all too quick to fall under the spell of the handsome, cultured and intelligent businessman.

He was everything a young woman could ask for. He proposed on his yacht while they were on a three week cruise in the South of France for their first anniversary with a flawless ten karat diamond, and they were married at a palatial estate in Provence eight months ago. Everything was absolutely perfect, a fairy tale. From the seven hundred guests, to the $120,000 one -of-a -kind Christian LaCroix wedding gown, to her personally crafted Jimmy Choo heels and the six hundred dollar a plate gourmet cuisine.

It was more than a simple Boston born girl with big dreams could ever hope for. Her life was just as she had always wanted it, stable, predictable, safe and calm. And yet somehow, when she looked at the two of them in the picture she didn't feel the sense of romance and passion that she should have for still technically being a newlywed.

Her flawless porcelain skin and the severe style that her long, thick, ebony locks had been twisted into, combined with the fifteen pounds she'd lost for the occasion, made her look like some sort of painted Victorian doll. Gone were the hourglass curves of her bust and her hips, everything had been cinched tight and streamlined in an unforgiving corset; even her smile was polite and forced. Her husband was in an immaculately tailored suit from one of Seville Row's finest, and his tall, slender frame, chiseled features and steel blue eyes radiated power and prestige. But there was very little warmth in those crystalline depths.

Their lives were busy ones. Suzanne spent her time split between the company's financial headquarters in Los Angeles and the recently acquired location in London while Richard traveled often to Sydney and Hong Kong, meeting with his largest accounts. They would spend perhaps a night together, maybe two, every few weeks, and even though she knew what his life was like when she married him, it was still a shock to see the same man who lavished endless attention on her from the day she first arrived at the company now treat her like she was an obligation to be scheduled between business trips.

And lately even those scheduled meetings had fallen by the wayside.

Jensen Holdings enjoyed almost unnatural growth and profitability over the company's fifty year history. But six months ago stock prices had nearly crashed and bankrupted the entire company when Robert Fischer, the recently inherited heir of the Fischer Morrow Energy Conglomerate, poised to become the worldwide leader and sole controller of the global energy market, had basically broken apart the entire company. It cost Richard_ billions_, and if it wasn't for the increased contributions of David Woodruff and Cobol Engineering, Jensen Holdings may very well have folded.

Richard had spent the last four weeks in Sydney meeting with Woodruff and Peter Browning, Fischer Morrow's chief legal counsel, in some sort of last ditch effort to repair the absolute financial devastation. He'd called her just this morning to inform her that he'd be there for another week…at least.

"It's the nature of the business, Suzanne," he'd told her in an emotionless tone. "Honestly, darling, you know what the company demands of both me and of you. We all have our parts to play and responsibilities to fulfill to insure that everything is running smoothly. This is our future and my legacy, I don't take it lightly."

Richard's condescending voice echoed in her head and she leaned back in her soft leather office chair and sighed. It was what she asked for. She had wanted a stable man that she could depend on…unfortunately what she could recently depend on from him was to be far too busy to deal with her.

But it was what _she_ had wanted, _darling_.

From out of nowhere her mind suddenly wandered to the memory of that same endearment spoken in an accented drawl, deep and husky, filled with amusement and passion. For a split second she closed her eyes and instantly recalled a ridiculous paisley patterned, polyester button-up shirt that smelled of delicious, earthy scents like sandalwood, real vanilla and cinnamon. The rough scrape of a three-day old beard as it trailed along the sensitive skin on the insides of her thighs, and the feel of obscenely full, pillow soft lips against hers….of being so completely _filled _her entire body shook with pleasure.

Suzanne's eyes snapped open and she sat up with a start as she tried to control her racing heart. She could feel the flush racing up from her neck to stain the pale skin on her face bright red, and suddenly her lightweight Chanel suit felt absolutely stifling. She reached out with one trembling hand to take a sip of the imported bottled water that was resting on an neat coaster on her desk, while the other came up to clasp the solid platinum crescent moon pendant that always hung around her neck. The elegant charm was much heavier than it looked, and as her fingers played with the familiar weight and balance of it she felt herself began to calm down.

She had no idea what had brought that on. She hadn't thought about him in two years.

The hand around her pendant curled tightly into a fist, letting her flawless manicured nails bite into her palm as anger tightened her chest. She hadn't thought about him in two years and she would _not_ start thinking about him now. She quickly rationalized her feelings; she was simply going through some mildly hormonal episode, no doubt brought on by the stress of long days at the office and Richard's difficult schedule lately. In fact, yes, she was due to start her period any day now.

That was it. It had to be.

She put the bottle of water back down and turned back to her computer, her racing mind was calmed as her fingers began to dance across the keys, the commands and coding coming out of her mind as if they were notes on a sheet of music for a composer. The burst of inspiration brought back her inner voice, reminding her that the reason that she was so successful had as much to do with her talent, as it did with the people that had taught her that the mind's potential for true and genuine inspiration and creativity was limitless.

Suzanne stood up and walked across her office in a contemplative silence to stare out the floor to ceiling windows that looked out over the skyline of Los Angeles. Her eyes took in the structure and architecture of each and every building. The arches, corners and curves, glass, metal and stone that brought it all to life. And just like that, she couldn't stop herself from remembering all the things…and people… she'd tried so very hard to forget over the past two years.


	2. Chapter 1

**AN: Whew! I am so excited to get this story going…please note this Chapter is heavy on exposition as basically I have to sort through and explain quite a bit (thankfully the 'interwebs' is just full of people who have digested and quantified this stuff, seriously). I am taking liberty with a little of the back story, but I still find it cannon compliant as Nolan never got into the specifics…so yeah, that.**

**Also I have been to Paris once, and it was a while ago, so I am writing from memory...also I have no experience with the educational system other than what I've researched and was in the movie. (All of it was not accurate.) So a disclaimer, and I apologize for any glaring errors.**

**Please…PLEASE leave a review; it makes me happy…and inspired! Feed the muse, darlings. **

**I own nothing aside from my ideas…I think those are mine…**

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_Paris, France  
_

_Fall 2007_

Despite how often she traveled, Suzanne Williams _really_ hated to fly. It wasn't so much about a fear of the plane crashing or anything like that, it was the way she was packed in like a sardine for hours on end and forced to endure nearly inedible food and conversation with a random stranger that she was generally too nice to ignore.

One of these days she was going to make enough money to fly first class…it would be infinitely more agreeable.

She stared blankly out the window and absently played with the smooth, heavy, platinum crescent moon charm that hung around her neck as the plane taxied down the runway towards the gate, yawning as the early morning light streamed across her face. Overnight international flights were the worst. There was always the issue of jet-lag and that feeling that you were suspended in some sort of alternate reality or a dream until your inner clock caught up.

The plane rolled to a stop and Suzanne popped out her ear buds, which had served as a wonderful conversational deterrent to the balding, overweight, middle aged man beside her who felt the need to tell her about the dissolution of his thirty year marriage, and ran her hands through her long black hair.

It had been a while since she'd been in the city of lights.

:o:o:o:o

Suzanne was a born and bred New Englander, a Bostonian through and through. She had grown up on the east coast and attended Northeastern University's prestigious Engineering program on a full academic scholarship before taking advantage of her mother's French heritage and applying to the esteemed Parisian Ecole D'Architecture. Above all odds she was accepted for the graduate program and at twenty three she packed up her entire life and moved halfway around the world.

Like most youngsters who jump out of the nest, she spread her wings in the big, wide world, she never was the same.

In graduate school Suzanne had met a man who had changed and challenged the way she looked at everything. Professor Stephen Miles had made her question reality and the restrictions that architects and engineers placed on their creativity, he'd literally opened a Pandora's Box in her head and she'd never looked at her CAD program and drafting table the same way again.

"We have to be continually jumping off cliffs and developing our wings on the way down." He'd said the first day of class in his charming Cockney accent, "Kurt Vonnegut said that, and I am a firm believer in the idea. If you are looking to build a building, there's the door. I'm only interested in people who want to create something."

She couldn't have _dreamed_ of what this man would show her…quite literally it would turn out.

And though she really enjoyed school and her Professor, what she loved about him the most was the fact that it had been in his lecture hall that she'd met his daughter Mallorie.

Mallorie Miles became the sister that Suzanne had never had. The free spirited woman with her gorgeous wide blue eyes and her musical French accent was the perfect complement to a predictable, sedate Yankee girl who felt like a fish out of water so far from home.

Within weeks of her arriving in Paris, Mallorie had convinced her to move out of the cramped student housing and into a small two bedroom flat in the artsy Montmartre district that her parents had bought to sub-let.

The two of them managed to frequent the various bars and nightclubs in the area as often and they attended classes, and it was quite a shock to recall the number of nights that she and Mal had stumbled to class the next morning in disheveled party dresses with last night's make up smeared under their eyes and the tang of vodka martinis on their breath.

Of course all of that came to a screeching halt the day that Dominick Cobb transferred in from Cal Tech and took a seat right next to her best friend. It was love at first sight, and even though she tried really hard not to feel like a third wheel, the little flat always felt like an episode of "Three's Company" after he moved in.

Now, Suzanne liked Dom, she really did…honestly, and with his baby blue eyes and million dollar smile she could absolutely see why her friend was just totally head over heels for the charming Californian. But there was just something about him that never sat 100% well with her. He was very ambitious, and she spent many nights wide awake, thanks to the thin walls of their living space, listening to them talk, debate and occasionally argue about a litany of side jobs and ideas that he'd concocted to help them get a leg up and be successful once they graduated from school, married and started a family.

Some of them made sense, and others were…well bordering on just plain shady.

But Mal was a big girl; she could make her own decisions. After all Suzanne had almost zero experience in long term relationships, so what the hell did she know anyhow. During her years in college she'd updated boyfriends like she did her wardrobe, and after graduation she'd just lost the effort in even calling them relationships. She saw them as a way to scratch an itch, and occasionally someone to have a conversation with, but nothing longer than a week, and nothing that remotely came close to tugging at her heart strings. There would be time for that later she'd always reasoned, now was the time for her to build a career.

And her career was getting off to an insanely successful start. She took a lucrative engineering job with a Russian oil company off the coast of Siberia right after graduation, designing state of the art off shore drilling rigs, while single handedly writing the CAD and software design programs she used. It was eight months of non-stop traveling all over Russia and Siberia for business meetings with millionaire energy magnates; including months at sea on the actual rigs, and following that she had eight months off and then the cycle would start all over again.

It was a rootless and transient existence that annoyed her parents to no end, but she absolutely loved it.

This recent excursion to Paris was at the beginning of her eight months of freedom. After a small stop in Boston to see her parents for a weekend she was off, taking a vacation to her old flat on her best friend's request. They hadn't seen one another since the birth of Mal's daughter Phillipa three years ago, and she had all but _begged_ her to come, baiting her with promises of homemade French cuisine and a good martini. What was a girl to do?

"You have a nice vacation," The balding man next to her snapped her out of her revelry as he stood up and reached up to the overhead compartment to grab his carry-on bag. "I hope Paris sees a pretty girl like you falling head over heels in love."

Suzanne smiled quickly and stood up to shoulder her pocketbook and grab her duffle bag out of the overhead with a fluid pull. "Thanks so much, but I'm just here to spend time with a good friend and unwind. I hope you enjoy yourself though, it's a very lovely city."

She weaved her way through the traffic and off the cramped plane, breathing deep as the crisp fall air snuck through the gaps in the concourse ramp and filled her nose with the familiar smell of what she'd come to think of her second home. She walked into the main terminal of Charles de Gaulle Airport and after grabbing a cart and collecting her three suitcases as fast as possible she made her way out to hail a cab, proud that her French had only mildly degraded.

:o:o:o:o

Thanks to the insane traffic it was a practical eternity before she was unceremoniously dropped off at the front door of number 13 Rue Reaumur, nearly seventy Euros lighter. If she wasn't so damn jet-lagged she would have been royally pissed off and argued down the price to the fifty that the meter said. But she really wasn't in the mood. After a seven hour flight she just wanted to go upstairs, unpack, and take a quick nap so she could function later in the day. She waved off the cab driver with a sharp look, her green eyes flashing as she grabbed her own bags and moved them into the foyer.

After hauling her luggage up to the second floor Suzanne fished out her old key and smiled as the lock clicked and the door swung open. It had been the better part of five years since she'd stayed here, but the minute her feet crossed the threshold she remembered everything. Professor Miles and his wife Marie still owned the place and were between tenants at the moment, it had taken no persuasion whatsoever when Suzanne asked to use the place while she visited. They'd even refused her stalwart attempts to negotiate an amount to pay for rent, citing that she was like a daughter to them and they'd never made her pay while she was in school and they weren't going to start now.

She planned on mailing him a certified bank check to the school on her last day in the city.

Suzanne walked into the bright simple kitchen, and noticed the small bunch of wildflowers in a pretty vase on the plain white, metal table. There was a note sitting by the flowers and it didn't take her more than a moment to recognize Mal's precise script, informing her that she made up her old bedroom and filled the refrigerator and cupboards with groceries, and that her and Dom would be stopping by to drop the children off with her father and mother for the week this afternoon at one when his last class let out, and to please meet them at the school.

With her afternoon seemingly planned she opened up the windows in the kitchen to let in some fresh air and as she walked through the living room, observing the same fluffy red leather couch that had seen better days, she opened the windows there as well, before walking into her old bedroom and flopping face down on the bed, barely taking the time to kick off her flats and set her cell alarm for noon before she passed out into a dreamless sleep.

:o:o:o:o

The shrill chirping of her alarm seemed to go off only seconds later, but as she sighed and stretched like a cat, she checked the time and realized that indeed four hours of her life had ticked by. She stood up and shuffled out of her room, grabbing her bag of toiletries before walking into the tiny bathroom. It was little more than a toilet, vanity, and an antique claw-foot tub that had been converted to a shower, no more than ten feet by ten feet, but it had hot water.

Suzanne stood bleary eyed in the mirror for a moment before deciding that she needed a shower to wake her ass up or she was going to prove to be very poor company. Aside from the fact that if she was _ever_ going to manage to get over the groggy feeling in her head she needed to stay up for the rest of the day and go to bed at her regular time.

A half hour later she was freshly showered and her long straight black hair was dried, she legitimately felt a million times better. She settled on wearing a comfortable pair of faded skinny jeans and an over sized white knitted sweater. On her feet were her go to black leather flats, if she had learned anything in school it was that cobblestones and stiletto heels are a dangerous combination. After applying a small bit of eye makeup and clear lip gloss to freshen up her face she grabbed her bag and walked out the door.

:o:o:o:o

The Grand Ecoles were pretty much the French equivalent of Ivy League American Universities. They were private institutes of higher learning that were outside of the public education system and were extremely selective on applicants; each one was specialized for a specific discipline and educated the best of the best. Suzanne still wasn't sure how she'd managed to get into one…but the 4.0 GPA from Northeastern and her insane ability to do well on tests was probably a damn good clue.

She took the metro downtown and strolled along the river letting the bustling city around her calm her nerves. It was like a massive weight had been lifted off her shoulders. She didn't even have to think about work, or stress for the next eight months…it was an _amazing_ feeling.

It wasn't long before her feet took her right back to the beautiful stone building, and once inside, to her favorite classroom. She pushed open the door to the empty lecture hall and smiled at the sweet gray haired man that sat at his desk with papers littered all around. He'd never spent any time in his tiny office, even when meeting with students. "It's too much like a broom cupboard to get any thinking done," he was often fond of complaining.

Suzanne was about half way down the rows of chairs when he looked up from his work and fixed her with a beaming smile, "Bon-jor-now, my dear! How does this day find you?"

She laughed at his intentional Cockney butchering of the French word, "I am wonderful Professor Miles, and how have you been?"

"Lovely. A bit bored with the students lately if I'm to be honest. No imagination in this lot." He answered with a shake of his head.

"Well after you've had the best." She needled pretending to shine her fingernails on her shirt.

"You must be referring to me!" A loud voice yelled from behind her.

Suzanne spun around to see Mal and Dom waltz down the stairs with their two beautiful blonde children. Little Phillipa bounded cheerfully hand in hand with her father, and what had to be James was tucked firmly on Mal's hip.

"I can't even say anything back with those adorable babies hanging off of you." She said with a laugh as her dear friend leaned in to kiss her gently on each cheek.

"I missed you, so! It is so good to see you Suzanne." Mal sighed wistfully. "It has just been too long."

"I missed you too, and you are right, it has definitely been too long."

It may have been a few years, and a few babies later, but Mal was as beautiful as always. Her slender figure dressed in a stylish charcoal ribbed turtleneck and a vintage maroon a-line wool skirt, looked just as Suzanne had remembered from her wedding day the fall after graduation. She hadn't gained an ounce; it was the sort of genetic perfection that normal people envied. But most of all, there was still lightness in her voice and an infectious smile on her face, a fool could see that she was still madly in love with her husband and adored her children.

"Hey Suzanne," Dom said cordially, dressed well as always, in a neatly pressed pair of khaki dress pants, grey button down shirt and a matching sport coat. He leaned over to kiss her in a quick greeting before hefting his daughter up into his arms and looking into her sweet face. "Phillipa, this is Mommy's best friend Suzanne, can you say hello?"

The girl looked at her skeptically with the same big blue eyes both her parent's had, before finally smiling and whispering a quiet, "Hi."

"Nice to meet you," Suzanne said just as quietly before looking at the little boy. "And this must be James."

Mal smiled kissing the chubby, smiling boy, "It is."

"I gotta give it to you both; you guys make some good looking kids." She winked at the two of them as Mal rolled her eyes and Dom just laughed quietly.

After the parents reluctantly handed the children off to their grandfather who insisted that he was just fine waiting for his wife and didn't need to be babysat. The three of them left and headed out of the school to catch up, taking Dom's suggestion to visit a café for an afternoon coffee and a bit to eat. Suzanne's stomach had already caught up to her despite the time difference, and she was certainly inclined to a little caffeine to help her stay awake.

:o:o:o:o

"So how's work?" Dom asked casually, fiddling with the saucer underneath his cup as they sat around a wrought iron table at a small outdoor café not far from the school, enjoying the beautiful sunshine. "Still globetrotting and selling secrets to the Russians?"

Suzanne chewed thoughtfully on a buttery mouthful of croissant before nodding her answer, "Busy as ever, and very funny, I'd only sell if I could triple my money."

The couple shared a conspiratorial glance that her sharp green eyes didn't miss. They were up to something again, just like the old days.

She took a sip of her café au lait and sighed as the decadently creamy liquid exploded on her taste buds. "Alright you two," she said with a raised eyebrow, "what gives? I am getting the feeling you invited me to Paris with an agenda beyond having coffee and pastry."

"And drinks," Mal laughed playfully, "I had drinks in mind too. Not to mention finding you a lover."

Suzanne rolled her eyes and waived her hands in front of her. "Yes to the drinks, _no_ to the man. I'm all set in that department. I have eight months to relax; I don't want to spend it babysitting some immature ass."

The French woman frowned, "Just by the tone of that reply I can tell that you need to spend at least a week locked in your room with a man getting it. You are far too stressed out. When's the last time you had a good one?"

"Man or orgasm?" Suzanne replied taking another bite of food, falling into the banter with her friend if it had been minutes, not years, since they had last seen one another.

"Both, and the second one doesn't count unless it was by another person."

"Huh," She scrunched up her face and honestly thought for a moment about the last time she'd dated- or even had a one night stand that was worth it.

"Ugh," Mal snorted. "You have just proven my point. I will get you that, or both, before you leave France."

Suzanne merely chuckled and noticed that poor Dom had managed to check out of the conversation by taking interest in a pigeon that was walking along the cobblestones and the crowd of tourists that loudly milled all about them.

"So, Dom, what are you up to lately?" Suzanne deftly changed subjects, ignoring Mal's squinting, suspicious stare.

"Actually, something we hoped you'd be interested in being involved with for the next few months."

"Oh, do tell."

He leaned forward onto the table, and lowered his voice as he spoke, "Do you remember the 'work' we used to do in Miles' class?"

Suzanne's eyes went wide at the question. It was a rather hard thing to forget.

:o:o:o:o

_Stephen Miles was truly a pioneer in his field, but it was also true that he wasn't always a sedate, mild mannered architecture professor. In his youth he was an engineer working for MI6, the UK's Secret Intelligence Service, and had been involved in all sorts of interesting and top secret ventures. Mal had explained that he'd retired around the time she thirteen, wanting to have a stable and calm life for his family. But it would seem that he hadn't quite lost contact with the desire to be on the cutting edge. On a boring Saturday afternoon, after a family dinner about six months before graduation, Mal, Dom and she were sitting in his living room when the old man produced a small vial full of a clear liquid._

"_It's a prototype drug called Somnacin," he explained quietly. "The military has been using it for years to study dreaming. It basically induces a state of lucid REM sleep, allowing the dreamer the ability to manipulate and explore their own subconscious. It's a quite harmless compound and the results are incredible. Think about it, designing and engineering a building with no regard for the limitations of the real world. Where you can use your entire mind to solve a problem, to create and experience genuine inspiration."_

_He'd pulled out three, thin, pen style needles, similar to Epi-pens people would use to inject themselves during an allergic reaction, and held them in the palm of his hand. _

_Now, there were a million reasons she should have stood up and walked away. The foremost being the fact that her Professor was offering her some sort of top secret intravenous drug and telling her to inject herself and "expand her mind", but there was a larger part of her that trusted the Miles family implicitly. She'd known the man for four years, and he was offering the same stuff to his own daughter, so it had to be safe._

_As she stared at Dom and Mal, watching them both hold the pen against their arms, she soundly reasoned that this was something she would not be telling her parents…ever. _

_It was a simple 'click' and then she was gone._

_That first time, in the Miles' living room, she spent an hour imagining a thick, evergreen forest, like the ones in Vermont she spent every summer as a child hiking through. The sound of birds and a bubbling stream echoed in her ears, while the damp earthy smell of pine filled her nose and a cool breeze caressed her skin._

_The three of them woke up at the same time without feeling anything residual from the Somnacin, though as they would come to find out, the drug had forever changed them. _

_Their special 'work' group was convened every Friday and Saturday night for the next six months, and Suzanne was hard pressed to admit it, but what she had discovered about, and within, her own mind was the reason she got her lucrative, high-paying job after school._

:o:o:o:o

"What about it?" She finally managed to ask, trying to hide her excitement.

Dom smiled and leaned in further, "We got a hold of a PASIV machine."

"No fucking way!" Suzanne whispered, "Where the hell did you get that?"

The machine was another part of the dreaming experiments that Miles had explained to the group. The "Portable Automated IntraVenous Device" was specifically developed by the military to allow multiple people to "share" dreams. It had been a frequent discussion topic amongst the three of them, because quite frankly waking up and trying to explain an hour's worth of dreaming to someone else is about as effective as explaining and acid trip. But it was always nothing more than a pipe dream.

His blue eyes were lit up with something akin to glee as he explained, "I have an associate who came across one for a decent price a while ago."

Suzanne shook her head in complete disbelief, "Have you _tried_ it?"

Mal bit her lip and nodded. "It's amazing, indescribable."

"That's it?" She scoffed, "Give me more! How does the construct work? Are you all able to create? Do you all perceive the dream the same way?"

Dom laughed and looked over at his wife, "Yes and no. You basically all inhabit a single person's mind, and there can only be one person constructing, but everyone can move freely in it. We exploit the way the brain has to create and perceive at the same time in order to make a dream."

"Wow that is a genius loophole, so you could actually disrupt someone's thought process and they would be unable to realize the loss of control." Suzanne mumbled as much to her friends as to herself. "I have got to see this."

Mal reached across the table with a huge smile on her face and took her hand, "How do you know it's not happening right now?"

Suzanne's heart fluttered in her chest as a cold wash of fear moved across her skin, "What are you talking about?"

"How did you get _here_?" Dom questioned with a straight face. "Think about it, Suzanne."

* * *

**Whaaat?**


	3. Chapter 2

**AN: Somehow this just flew out! Again, it is a **_**little**_** heavy with concepts and explanations, but it kinda has to be to bring Suzanne and the rest of us up to speed…after all the fun is yet to come, darling. ; ). **

**Please read and review…I see that you are viewing…tell me what you think! Please and thank you! **

**Also, I have taken the liberty of giving Arthur a surname…I have not found one anywhere that Nolan gave…so if you know it, let me know!**

**(I am pushing this out without a huge edit. If I need to revise I will make changes!)**

**Happy 4****th****! To all who celebrate!**

* * *

_Paris, France_

_Fall 2007_

"_Think about it, Suzanne."_

Suzanne's head sun at the implication of Dom's words and she had to close her eyes to keep her heart rate and her racing thoughts under control. "We were at the school and then we left…" She trailed off as she realized that she didn't remember walking down the street to the cafe or asking for a table, or making her food order for that matter.

Her eyes darted around and she tried to focus on the crowd of people milling around her; they seemed to be engrossed in activity, but when she really concentrated she noticed that the noise she was mistaking for conversation was just garbled words.

"I'm dreaming right now, aren't I?" She answered numb with shock as her coffee cup began to violently shake on its saucer.

The ground started to tremble around her and suddenly everything started to break apart as if it was pixilated in some sort of warped television show. The cobblestones popped and puffed like stone bubbles and the café windows shattered. Suzanne turned towards Dom and Mal, opening her mouth to ask another question when suddenly the awning of the brick building collapsed above them in a massive explosion.

Suzanne violently crashed back into her body and she sat up, gasping and choking for air like a fish out of water. Her wide green eyes darted back and forth in a panic until she took stock of her body. She was sitting in a reclining beach chair, and she was inside some sort of older building that looked like a warehouse of some sort. The sun's reflection of the white washed walls blinded her for a moment and she had to cover her eyes to adjust.

It was when she brought her arm up to her face that she noticed the thin, clear plastic tube. The tube was attached to her wrist by a small patch; she could feel the pressure of a couple of needles piercing her skin, but they seemed so baby fine and delicate that she severely doubted there would be any marks left behind. Her eyes followed the tubing from her chair as it snaked down and into a metal apparatus that was no larger than a briefcase.

That was the PASIV machine, she was sure of it. Dom and Mal had hooked her up to a machine and had just spent the past hour, at least, jerking around in her head. She frowned at the thought and actually could feel her pale cheeks flush with irritation, she would have appreciated them explaining things.

She suddenly remembered that they'd gone to the warehouse originally under the pretense of Dom picking something up for work, she must have sat down and dozed off and they waited until she wasn't paying attention to hook her up- sneaky fucking bastards.

Her angry tirade was sidetracked when she pulled her hand away from her face and caught sight of her friends, reclining in their own chairs and smiling at her like a couple of cats who ate the canary.

"How do you feel?" Mal asked cautiously.

"Like you both are complete and utter _assholes_ for doing that to me." Suzanne frowned petulantly.

"I think she means physiologically."

A voice spoke up from the direction of the machine. She turned her head to notice a tall, slender, and _impeccably_ dressed young man with neatly slicked jet black hair, dark chestnut eyes and a handsome almost baby-like face that probably made him seem quite a bit younger than his actual age. It took a moment, but she recalled that she'd met him quite a few years ago at Dom and Mal's wedding.

"Oh, yeah, I'm fine." Suzanne finally answered dumbly. "Aside from the betrayal of trust and mental trauma from one of my closest friends invading my personal space, I feel wonderful…"

"Arthur." He supplied, extending his hand for a firm shake and a warm but reserved smile. "Arthur Collins, we met at their wedding."

A tell-tale red flush decorated the tops of his ears and Suzanne felt herself blush at the memory. They _had_ met at the wedding, in the middle of the dance floor after Mal had dragged her out and practically thrown her at him and told her to dance, and then later when the bouquet conspicuously landed in her hands and the garter in his.

But unfortunately, as with all her potential romantic endeavors, her job came first and she couldn't for the life of her remember if she'd even bothered to exchange phone numbers and contact information with him…she did remember a very chaste peck on the lips at the end of the night, though.

"Yes, I remember that; Suzanne Williams, nice to see you again." She supplied with a smile, finally letting go of his hand, but not before noticing the smoothness of his skin. Suzanne couldn't help but stare at the way the perfect creases in his khaki colored pants hung off his rear end, or the way the black cashmere sweater over a white collared shirt and tie clung to his trim stomach. The man must have the most phenomenal tailor in the world, and wow he smelled delicious, a light, clean almost delicate woodsy fragrance that barely registered in her nose, but instantly got her attention.

She did _not_ remember him being this attractive before. Then again it had been a while since she'd been with a man. She wasn't lying earlier when she said she was in a drought, and it would be convenient to not have to bother to meet someone new…after all Mal and Dom already knew him so that made references easy to come by.

"You honestly can't be mad at me." Mal interrupted her thoughts from across the room as she rolled her eyes. "Do you want to go under again, so I can explain it?"

"What's the time difference in the dream world?" Suzanne asked Arthur, pointedly ignoring her friend for the moment.

"Five minutes here an hour there." He replied as he moved to reset the machine, "Standard Somnacin dosing."

She stared back at Mal with a wry smile, "You have an hour to make this special."

"Oh, it will be."

:o:o:o:o

They were back at the café again. The sun shining down and the bustling, crowded streets of Paris were all around them. Suzanne stared up at the blue sky and down at her feet, it was so real. She'd always been quick to immerse into the dream world, even before she began the work with Miles she'd been a heavy sleeper. Under the right circumstances in school, namely when she'd taken a nap in between morning classes for an hour or two, she was prone to frequent, intense and lucid dreams.

"I'm sorry," Mal said quietly. "Dom wanted you to experience the most pure dream share you could, it's why I didn't say anything."

She took a deep breath and smiled at her friend's genuine concern for her feelings. "I'm actually not that upset." She answered truthfully. "I just wanted to give you a hard time." She reached out to take her hand as they strolled down the busy sidewalk. "Now, start explaining all of this."

Mal shook her head as she gestured with their joined hands. "When you dream share you always have one person whose mind is populating the physical setting of the dream with information. Dom has taken to calling this person the subject. I'm doing that now." She explained, "The people you see are projected images from my subconscious. You can talk to them and they'll talk back, you can actually get information about me if you want. I have no way to control them."

Suzanne nodded and reflexively smiled at a mother and a young child that walked past them as Mal continued, "There is also a dreamer. That is the person who creates the _world_ of the dream, and right now I am able to serve as subject and dreamer. Earlier you were the dreamer and Dom was the subject. When you realized what was going on, you lost control and it was what collapsed the dream."

"So, what happens the other way around? If the subject realizes they are dreaming."

"That is a bit more interesting." Mal sighed. "The mind does not like an invader; the projections will actually turn and search out the dreamer, attacking like fighting off an infection. It's quite brutal."

They moved to a park bench along the river and Suzanne's mind digested everything her friend had told her. "This is just incredible, and the other people that are sharing, they can, what, just move within the construct of the dreamer."

"Yes, that's right. They cannot change anything; they are only able to manage their own manifestation."

"And you have to wait until the timer runs out on the PASIV to wake up, or have the dreamer lose it?"

"Or die."

Suzanne's green eyes flared at the matter-of-fact way that Mal had answered her. "Have you ever done that?" She asked quietly.

Mal nodded as she stared out over her beautiful dream city, "Dom has been reading a lot about the research that has been done in the military study, and there is more stuff out there; some of it legal, some not so much. It seems that there has been quite a bit of a gray market world that has popped up around it."

Her voice trailed off for a moment and she took a deep breath, "We took a step off a building together to make a leap of faith."

A feeling of anger flared up in Suzanne's gut with an intensity she didn't expect at the thought of the two of them doing something so foolish when they had children at home. They shouldn't risk themselves like that. "Not quite sure I'm up for that," She settled on saying instead. There was no use arguing with her about anything, when Mal had an idea about something there was no changing her mind about it.

"It's just a dream," Mal said with a laugh, looking up to the sky as the clouds began to fall around them and the ground suddenly opened up beneath their feet and swallowed them whole.

:o:o:o:o:o

Suzanne opened her eyes after the sensation of falling abruptly stopped. She was back in the warehouse, awake…or at least she thought she was. But the dreams had been so real it was difficult to tell.

Mal unhooked herself from the tube and walked across the room to where she was sitting, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a metal top. She spun it with a flick of her wrist and watched as it spun around and around for a moment or two before wobbling and falling out of rhythm as it lost momentum.

"I call it a totem," She said proudly. "It's an object specific to only you, and when you or someone else is dreaming it is almost impossible to recreate the exact way that it feels. It's a way to anchor you in reality."

As if by instinct Suzanne's hands came up to play with the heavy crescent moon that hung around her neck. The half dollar sized pendant was a unique mixture of solid platinum and gadolinium that her geologist father had given her on her eighteenth birthday. The interesting thing about the charm was how heavy it was for its size, and because of the second metal it was also a very weakly magnetic.

"Keep it to yourself," Dom spoke up, his voice serious. "No one else should know how it feels, or what makes it different. That way there is no confusion about reality."

"Alright," She answered with a deep breath as she took the strap off her wrist. There had been_ just _about enough of alternate reality for her jet lagged mind to handle today. As if taking cue from her head, her stomach grumbled loudly into the empty warehouse space enough for the three people standing next to her to turnaround and stare at her.

"Early dinner, anyone?" Arthur suggested with a laugh as he began to pack up the machine, letting the plastic tubes feed back into the box.

:o:o:o:o

An hour later, the four of them sat at a gorgeous outdoor restaurant with a breathtaking view of Notre Dame Cathedral as the afternoon sun began to slightly dip in the sky. It was a trendy rotisserie, and after a lengthy debate of the merits of lamb versus chicken, Suzanne found herself devouring an unreal spit roasted lamb shank marinated in rosemary and shallots and perfectly creamy mashed potatoes on Arthur's insistence.

"So," she asked as she took a sip of deep red, Rhone wine, savoring the taste, "how is it that you guys met. I don't think I got the story before."

Arthur chuckled and shook his head, "I was a CPA and a tax accountant for a firm he did some architectural bids for. Needless to say, Cobb is terrible at research and paperwork. I think I spent so much time on the phone pestering him we finally started just hanging out, turned out we had a lot of hobbies in common."

"I'm charming like that," Dom laughed as he sat back and gently slung his arm around his wife's shoulders. "Always end up with the best company."

"I'd be inclined to believe that if I didn't know the company you keep from time to time," Arthur mumbled lowly as he took a long, elegant swig out of his wine glass.

The two men shared a long and somewhat intense stare, before Dom turned to Suzanne with a deep sigh. "So Suzanne, speaking about company, how about I get you and my wife a martini and I discuss an interesting little business venture with you?"

:o:o:o:o

Suzanne wasn't particularly looking to make an investment while she was on vacation, but there were few people that could make a sales pitch like Dominick Cobb. She had told him on several occasions that he must have been a sleazy door to door salesman in a prior life.

Though try as she might to shake her head and tell him to take the elevator to the top of the Eiffel Tower and take a jump, Suzanne reluctantly found herself listening to his ideas with rapt interest. Apparently Cobb was tired of the architectural game in the "real" world. But the world of dreams was calling him loud and clear.

"There's a huge market for dreamscape designing and security." He explained as he sipped at his tumbler of scotch, leaning forward on his elbows, a gesture she had recently come to recognize meant that he was rather excited about whatever it was he was going to talk about. "Security of information that is vulnerable in the subconscious is apparently all the rage amongst the world's billionaire CEO's."

She thought for a moment, recalling something she'd read in a scientific journal a few months back while she was sitting on an oil rig in the middle of the Barents Sea in northern Russia freezing her ass off with nothing to do. Apparently an Austrian banker was accusing his chief competitor of drugging him and somehow stealing his stock passcodes and banking plans, managing to interrupt and eventually derail a massive merger that would have crippled the competitor's business.

"You're talking about extraction," Suzanne said.

"Exactly," Dom answered. "There is training that is being developed now to help people defend their subconscious from these kinds of attacks, I think I can do it better."

"And make a ton of money, I'm sure." She supplied, looking over at Mal who was daintily sipping on her cocktail. "Have you done any work yet?"

"The money _is_ good," Dom nodded. "And yeah, we've done small jobs here and there. But I have a possible contract for a _substantial_ job. I wanted to know if you are interested in helping. I mean you've been with Mal and I since the beginning and I really need people I can count on."

Suzanne went silent and she stared down at her glass. She _really _didn't want to spend her vacation working. But it was that tiny little voice in her head again, the one that encouraged her to take the Somancin injection in the first place, that was screaming at her to ask him more about it. She finally yielded to her damn curiosity.

"What is it that we are _actually_ doing?"

"The investor wants us to prove ourselves; he wants an extraction first, like an audition. If we can swipe what we need to from his head, he'll pay us to guard it."

"How much?"

"Half a million dollars each," Mal spoke up finally. "Double your yearly salary for a few months of work."

She took a deep breath and sat back, staring at her friends. Double her salary…and she'd get to work in Paris, with her friend. It seemed way too simple and good to be true, which was generally never a good thing.

"You don't have to answer me now." Dom supplied, "But I would like to know by tomorrow morning."

"I'll do it." Suzanne answered with a shrug. "Provided you don't get me fired from my other job; you know as well as I do as one of Miles' students that you just don't walk away from dreaming and creating when given the opportunity- you can't."

"Excellent." Dom said with a smile. "We start in the morning. I have a guy coming in from Mombasa who is…"

"Eames?" Arthur interjected with a huge frown on his handsome face. "You can't be serious. There are like five hundred other people you've met that can do what he does."

"Yeah, just like I know five hundred people that can do _your_ job, but not anywhere near as good." Dom replied with a hint of obvious sarcasm. "He's the best at what he does."

"Oh, there's no one better." Arthur answered in a deadpan tone, "I'll just leave my Rolex at home."

Suzanne watched the two of them argue across the table in complete silence again, before Dom turned to her. "I met him through a friend of Mal's father, ex-Royal Navy or something like that. He's got a very specific set of skills that make these jobs work every time."

"He's also _very_ charming," Mal said with a smile, laughing as Arthur rolled his eyes.

Dom checked his watch and motioned for the waiter to bring over the tab, "So at the warehouse tomorrow morning for eight to get started?"

"Ten." Suzanne scoffed as she finished her drink. "I'm on vacation."

:o:o:o:o

After she'd said goodbye to her friends Suzanne found herself taking a cab ride and a nice long walk through Montmartre as the sun finally set with Arthur, who had nonchalantly asked if she needed company to get home safe.

He was extremely pleasant conversation, and very amicable company. They discussed the finer points of French architecture and Suzanne discovered his love for Post-war British painters and the modernist movement. She also shared a few of her favorite memories from her University days with Mal before she met her husband.

"This is me," She breathed with a smile as she gestured up to the second floor of her apartment.

He nodded for a moment and stared down at his feet, she could instantly sense a bit of anxiety in his posture and he seemed to realize it as he almost smiled out of reflex alone. "I know it's a little early; but I just wanted to ask if you'd be interested in grabbing a nightcap with me. There is an amazing bar just down the street."

Suzanne smiled at the genuine, albeit slightly awkward way he asked her, and normally she would have been inclined to accept if she wasn't already slightly buzzed from the martini and the two glasses of wine she'd had at dinner. Not to mention the incessant exhaustion from jet-lag that was finally taking its toll.

"I'm sorry, I have to decline tonight; I am just exhausted from traveling and if I am going to do anything productive tomorrow I have to get to bed." She apologized, feeling awful as he frowned slightly. "I'd love a rain check, though."

Arthur smiled quickly, "Well, I'll let you be then. Have a good night's sleep and I'll see you in the morning. Any coffee or pastry you prefer for breakfast?"

Suzanne laughed at his chivalry, "Anything you get will be just fine- you don't have to do anything special for me. But if you must know, the sweeter the better, I love a good sugar rush in the morning, gets the brain flowing."

His brown eyes sparkled with amusement as he smiled and turned away, "Have a good night."

"You too."

Suzanne stood and watched him as he seemed to gracefully move across the street and out of sight. Years later, after everything happened; she would often look back on this night and wonder if things would have been any different if she'd taken him up on his offer for a drink. If it somehow would have saved her from the inevitable heartache and pain that followed her decisions; but hindsight, they say, is always 20/20.


	4. Chapter 3

**AN: And here we go for this week! Here we have a bit of fun at poor Arthur's expense and the introduction of our favorite dashingly bedraggled thief ; ).**

**Please, please can I beg for a review? There is SO much more to come...just the tip of the proverbial iceberg here!**

**I own nothing...**

* * *

_Paris, France_

_Fall 2007_

* * *

Suzanne was dead to the world that night. She had barely made it up the stairs and into her apartment before she collapsed onto her soft bed and into a completely black sleep. If she dreamt anything she didn't remember it, though suffices to say that she felt she'd done quite enough dreaming during the day to make up for anything she may have missed that evening.

But as much as she would have liked to sleep in, her phone rang shrilly at a little after seven in the next morning. She reached out blindly to grab the offending device on her bedside table and answered without bothering to see who was calling.

"'Lo?" Her voice croaked, still half asleep.

"Is it morning over there?" A voice that sounded suspiciously like her mother asked with far too much volume.

"Yeah Ma, it's early." Suzanne answered as she rolled onto her back and stretched out like a cat, sighing as her bones popped into alignment. "It's like one in the morning where you are, why are you calling so late?"

"Oh, no reason, just wanted to say hello."

She pushed the curtain of thick, black hair away from her face and frowned at her mother's timing. But it certainly wasn't out of the ordinary. Suzanne was an only child from a very tight knit family, and her parents had always supported her while pushing her very hard to succeed all of her life. The amusing part _now_, was the fact that they seemed to have reached the time in their lives when they wanted their only daughter to abandon her education and get saddled up with a man and pop out some grandchildren for them.

It was funny the first five hundred times they'd had the conversation. But it seemed after she turned 30 the irritation was beginning to increase exponentially.

"How's Mallorie?" Her mother asked.

"She's good."

"She still married to that guy?"

"Dom? Yeah, still married to him and they still have two kids." Suzanne answered as she stared up at the white, plaster ceiling above her bed. "And yes, that is two more children and one more husband than I have."

"I wasn't going to say anything." Her mother responded defensively. "I know that you are very busy with work."

She laughed at the indignation in her mother's voice, "Come on Ma. I'm in Paris; I'll find a nice man here and be married before I get home- maybe even pregnant. Dad'll love that."

"Married?" Her voice scoffed. "You'd have to be with him for more than five minutes for that to happen. How about this, just be with a man for more than a week and I'll leave you alone for six months."

Suzanne laughed loudly. "Alright, you have a deal. For the record it's not my fault I don't stay with them for more than five minutes. There is an appalling lack of skills in the male population as far as female satisfaction is concerned, and you always told me that if I couldn't find anyone who could do it better, than I should just handle it myself."

"That is true." She acquiesced, the smile evident in her tone. "And I still stand by that. But honey, maybe you should just give them a chance. No one is going to drill through you the first time."

She shook her head and couldn't stop the snort of amusement that escaped from her nose. "Oh my God, I am hanging up the phone, Mother. I have to get going. I love you and Dad; I'll talk to you soon."

Suzanne dropped her phone on the bed beside her and realized that she was now wide awake with no hope of getting back to sleep. With a very reluctant sigh she sat up and swung her legs out of bed, walking over to the windows and staring out as the morning sun began to seep across the city. It was such a beautiful view. From the small apartment balcony she could see the artists and street vendors setting up, and if she craned her head to the right she could see the beautiful hill and the majestic marble Basilica of Sacre Coeur. She'd forgotten how much she missed waking up here, and for the first time in a while was actually excited to see what the day held in store for her.

She grabbed her suitcase and pulled out a casual looking, fitted lilac button down shirt that would display her generous chest and emphasize her slender waist and a pair of boot cut khaki pants that made her ass look great, but were still dressed up enough to look like she cared. She would forgo the flats today for her calf-high black leather high-heeled boots.

Was she really going to dress up for Arthur?

Her face twisted into a thoughtful grimace as she walked into the tiny bathroom and started a shower. As if it was another one of her engineering projects, her head began to immediately analyze the situation; making sure to qualify and quantify the reasons and the implications of starting up a relationship or even a purely sexual encounter with her best friend's- husband's-best friend.

Ugh. That even _sounded_ obnoxious and unnecessarily messy.

Suzanne rinsed the shampoo out of her hair and reasoned to herself that while she liked his conversation and his company, and had very much enjoyed looking at his handsome face, she hadn't felt any sort of spark sitting next to him at dinner last night.

And she _wanted_ spark. Even as pathologically even keeled and practical as she was, when she thought about her idea of love, it was so very different than anything else in her mind. She wanted insanely passionate, unstoppable, desperately hot, can't-breathe-without-you-love and quite frankly she wasn't about to settle for anything less. No matter how silly and irrational it seemed.

She might have been judging the poor man too harshly, but Arthur really didn't seem to be the type she was looking for.

With that resolved, she took her time blow drying her hair and getting ready. She might not be trying to impress anyone she was working with, but it was important to still look half way decent. After all, as her mother was very fond of saying, "you never know who'll come walking in the door."

:o:o:o:o:o

A little before ten, Suzanne strolled into the same white-washed, sparsely furnished warehouse that Dom and Mal had taken her to the previous afternoon, to see the two of them and Arthur sitting around in a random assortment of desk chairs chit-chatting. The thin man rose immediately to greet her with a paper take out cup that she assumed to be coffee. She smiled as she grabbed the cup, noticing that it was wrapped in a cardboard collar and again in a napkin to stay perfectly neat.

"Thank you so much, Arthur. You didn't have to."

He waved her off with a small smile of his own, "Nonsense. I offered and I was getting something anyway. I got you a café au lait, figured you liked it with a bit of sugar. But I got the packets on the side, because I wasn't sure."

Suzanne nodded as he seemed to get a bit flustered as the minutes went on, blush staining his cheeks and the tips of his ears as he talked to her. She couldn't help but notice that he was flawlessly put together in another cashmere sweater, buttoned down shirt and tie, and perfectly creased suit pants.

"Thanks again," She assured him with a smile. "And for further reference I put two packets of sugar in everything regardless of whether it needs more or less. It's a consistency thing."

"I'll remember that." He said quietly.

Suzanne sat down in a rolling, leather desk chair that had seen better days, right next to Mal, who was daintily finishing up a morning croissant with one hand and sipping her warm drink in the other.

"There's pastry." Her friend gestured to a box on the table beside them through a mouthful of food with a decided lack of the lady-like manners she generally always presented.

"Thanks, I'm good for now."

"Well," Dom sighed, staring down at his rather shiny, silver Rolex. "I guess we'll just start now. I have no idea what time Eames is coming in. I swore he said nine."

"And then you realized this is _Eames_ we're talking about and he may well have meant nine, three days from now." Arthur added in a deadpanned mutter.

Mal laughed at his petulant answer, "Now Arthur, you should be nice. I am sure he'll be here any time."

"With a fabulously nonchalant excuse for his tardiness, I'm sure."

Suzanne laughed to herself as he rolled his brown eyes in sarcasm, before reaching into his leather briefcase and pulling out four manila case folders that he distributed to each of them. She opened hers up and stared face to face at a picture of a middle aged distinguished business man with a stylish swath of grey hair, that wasn't all that bad looking.

"That's William Thomas Graham, Executive Vice President in the Private Banking division of Credit Suisse. Fifty-seven years old, married with one teenage daughter, he spends his time commuting back and forth from company headquarters in Zurich and his office in London." Dom said as he flipped through his own information. "Last September Graham claims that he went to the dentist, and the next day his personal computer at work was accessed from his desk. Whoever it was, was able to get into his files and came within minutes from logging on to the client directory before the mainframe shut them down."

Suzanne's eyebrows rose as she nodded her head. "Wow, and it goes without saying that sort of security breach must have come from someone who knew his passwords."

"Why's that?" Arthur asked.

"Because Swiss Banks have notoriously difficult and coded security firewalls. I have to deal with them when I'm off shore on the rigs and it's a pain in the ass. None of the main system banking software is live on the internet; all client information is coded in-house as a way to keep it secure." Suzanne explained. "There was no way for someone to go wireless into this. I am telling you they had his passwords."

"Exactly," Dom nodded. "Graham is convinced an extractor caught him off guard."

"And now he wants you to keep it from happening again?" Arthur asked

"No darling, he just wants to spend some quality time with a couple handsome, dashing American boys in his dreams. Fancy being a cabana boy Arthur?"

"Eames."

The one word retort was spoken in a cold tone, completely bereft of any amusement.

Suzanne's head snapped up from behind her folder at the sound of a new voice. It only took her sharp green eyes a second to focus on the source of the wonderfully musical British accent, and when she did she was damn lucky she wasn't leaning back on her chair or she would have fallen over on her ass. There would be moments in the future where she would come to wish that she hadn't been in the warehouse that morning- but there would never, ever, be a single second where she wouldn't think about the way her pulse raced and her head spun the first time she looked at him.

Her first impressions were simple ones. He wasn't very much taller than she was, maybe only three or four inches, but she could tell by the broadness of his shoulders and the way he stood that he was well built under the layers of his clothes. Where Arthur was meticulously put together, everything precisely pressed and coordinated- he was the exact opposite. His suit, if one could call the gray pants and out dated matching sport coat a suit, was noticeably rumpled, as if he'd slept in them the night before, and the wing-collared pink polyester button-up shirt he was wearing was just god-awful. Throw in the mirrored aviator sunglasses, and the gelled side part in his hair, he looked and sounded like every bad stereotypical '70's British spy.

But when he took off the sunglasses, Suzanne couldn't stop her mouth from slightly falling open in awe at what she saw. He was handsome, and more importantly, he was _beyond_ masculine in a way that called to something primitive and very, very female deep down inside. A part of the normally stoic and organized woman that generally went ignored. Everything from the days old scruff that dusted his tanned skin, to the unique pewter gray color of his clear eyes, to the full, plump, pillows that he had where his lips were supposed to be, literally made her want to melt into a puddle.

And the _accent_?! God help her, a woman could only be asked to endure so much after spending the past eight months without a man in her bed. So Suzanne did what every self respecting lady would do in the same situation- she hid her head behind her folder and tried to completely become invisible as to not make a complete ass of herself.

"Nice to see you Eames," Dom spoke up with a small grin. "I see your ability to tell time hasn't improved."

"Piss off." He grumbled sharply, "You can thank London traffic and your friend Graham's clandestine, all hours lifestyle for that."

Mal seemed to completely ignore the tension in the room, standing up and embracing the man in a sultry hug, "_Bonjour_, Mr. Eames. Welcome back to Paris."

In a second his demeanor changed, kissing her friend gently on each cheek with his amazing mouth before stepping back to take in her simple, blue dress with a devastating smile, "Ah, _bonjour_, you beautiful thing. Suddenly every bit of the morning's aggravation is instantly washed away in your presence."

She only giggled at his over-the-top flattery, before waving him off and turning back to suddenly grab Suzanne's arm and pull her out of her chair with an amazing burst of strength that belied her tiny frame. "You need to meet someone."

Suzanne could feel her pale cheeks burning as she stood up and looked at the gorgeous Englishman.

"This is my very good friend, Suzanne Williams," Mal said with a huge smile gesturing to him. "And _this_, Suzanne, is Mr. Eames."

Thankfully her hardwired manners were able to come right out and recover from the no doubt foolish look on her face. She extended her hand and took his in a firm shake, trying to ignore the way her mind was screaming at the warmth of his touch and the way that there was just enough rough skin on his fingers and palm to reveal that he still worked with his own two hands. "Very nice to meet you, Mr. Eames," She finally managed.

He smiled again, at her this time, before bringing her hand up to his mouth and placing a feather light kiss on the knuckles. "The pleasure is all mine, darling," He mumbled against her skin, holding her hand for a bit longer than necessary before letting it go with a playful wink.

"Well, now that we have introductions and interruptions out of the way, maybe we can get to _work_." Arthur groused holding out another folder of material.

Suzanne was quick to notice that he was openly frowning at the two of them, and for a split second she actually felt guilty at her blatantly obvious behavior, before the rational side of her mind overruled her heart. She wasn't under any sort of obligation to anyone, least of all Arthur, so whatever his current hang up was with the man in front of her she really didn't care all that much. She walked back to her chair and sat back down, picking up the folder again and waiting patiently to continue.

Eames on the other hand, merely smiled at the thin man's irritation before grabbing a chair and loudly dragging it across the cement floor and putting it right up against hers, taking a seat and crossing his legs- all while staring down Arthur with a playful smirk on his face.

"Save the information, Professor Stick-In-The-Mud," he drawled as he threw his arm around the back of her chair and leaned over her shoulder, "I found a classmate to share with.

:o:o:o:o

Suzanne was _honestly_ trying to listen as Dom went over the finer points of his little extraction plot, but it was utterly hopeless. The only thing she was suddenly able to register in her normally very intelligent and clear mind was the fact that the man practically draped over her chair was unnaturally warm, perhaps because his body had become accustomed to the tropical weather in Mombasa, and that he smelled absolutely delicious.

It wasn't the same sedate and clean woodsy notes that she'd come to associate with Arthur, or even the classic burn of aftershave she remembered from growing up with her father. He was just overwhelmingly… masculine. Strong, earthy and exotic scents like cinnamon, vanilla and sandalwood musk assaulted her nose with alarming prowess; it reminded her of some sort of open air market in a far away land. She had to literally fight the urge to turn her head to the right and bury her face in his neck and take a deep breath.

Instead she sat as stock still as a statue, just letting her eyes dart over every now and then to notice that he was intently scanning the material in her hands, and that at some point he'd taken to chewing on a cinnamon scented toothpick. As if he needed something else to draw her attention to the obscene perfection of his mouth.

"And that's where I think that we need attention to detail, Suzanne." Dom said, snapping her out of her revelry.

"I'm sorry, I missed that." She blushed furiously at her obvious lack of attention. "What were you saying?"

She could see Eames smiling right near her cheek. "He was saying, that we need to do a fair bit of research for this little job and you are something like a crack at remembering things, darling. But I'm guessing only if you are listening."

His rich, deep voice slid into her ear like warm honey and she actually had to suppress a shiver. She kept her eyes away from his face, and stared at Mal and Dom who were looking very intently at her.

"We can just start over," Arthur sighed.

"That would be great." She managed, scraping up the remainder of her dignity, as she sipped on her rapidly cooling coffee. "I'll try to keep up."

:o:o:o:o:o

As it would turn out she did manage to miss a few rather important points; namely who would be doing what job in their little escapade into the world of the dream. Dom had managed to deal everyone's role into a snappy little dossier with a nifty little title- it was just like him to make it seem like a legitimately important endeavor.

He would serve as the "Extractor" and be the one to almost con Graham into giving up information. Apparently the man wanted to know if what had been previously done to him could be done again- just getting him to reveal his system log-ons would be all they needed for success.

Suzanne and Mal were to serve as the literal "Architects" of the dreamscape. Dom was insistent that the layout of the dream that they wanted to run would be complicated and involved enough, that if Graham as the subject began to sense that something was off they would be able to hide from his projections long enough to get what they needed and get out.

"You need a maze," Suzanne reasoned with a frown. "You know I am shit at solving and designing mazes."

Dom smiled at her irritation, "I do remember Miles making fun of you about that. But I want Mal designing the actual maze; I need you to be the dreamer. You have an unmatched eye for detail and recall, and our subject is rather particular about his tastes- if every last thing isn't perfect he's going to figure it out and we are going to have hell to deal with."

"I see, fair enough."

Arthur, it turned out, would serve as a sort of investigative "Point Man" who researched every bit of Graham's life and background to determine what would be the most effective way to draw him into the dream without him knowing, as well as any aspects of his day to day routine that would be useful to the rest of the team. The job seemed to fit his meticulous and detail oriented personality, and he would no doubt be remarkably effective.

That only left the man who was still leaning against her. From what she could gather, he seemed to be a bit of a rogue in the dream-sharing world. Supposedly he was the "imagination" of the project, but it didn't take having super-sensitive hearing to notice that Arthur chose to use the word "thief" under his breath. And she tried not to have a small heart-attack when Dom informed her that they would be working very closely gathering information for the dream layout.

So, she would be working in close quarters with a roguishly handsome thief with a good imagination…her mother's voice was already nagging loudly in the back of her mind about the illicit prospects that she should be considering.

As Dom finished his layout of the initial idea, Arthur picked up with a time table. The entire job needed to be done in a few weeks' time; Graham was expecting an envelope with his information anytime after the 1st of October. He began talking about thoughts for layouts and locations, and his monotone voice began to make her drift away.

Her eyes fell off of the recently dubbed "point man" and down to her folder again as she began to flip through Graham's interests and likes to sate her own curiosity, looking for anything that would stand out as a place to begin, when suddenly she felt a warm puff of breath on the shell of her ear.

"Museums, love. He's entirely smitten with spending time looking at pretty things he isn't supposed to touch. Something I can identify with at the moment."

Suzanne tried not to blush more as she turned slightly to talk to him, regretting it instantly, when he kept his face right where it was- forcing her to lean back slightly to keep her lips from brushing against his and feeling absolutely trapped by the intense gaze he was fixing her with.

"Oh, I see. Perhaps the Louvre, this afternoon, then, would be a good place for us to start looking for…umm… insight." The suggestion sounded as pathetic as her breathless voice at the moment, but it was all she had.

"Absolutely, I think I'd find nothing but pure inspiration and a number of ideas in your company in quiet places." There was a playful tone in his deep voice, but there was also a glint of something else in his pewter eyes, that kicked her heartbeat up a notch. He stared at her for another moment before turning his face away from hers to rest soft lips against her ear once again, his tone dropping to a husky whisper.

"Though we'd better pay attention right now, darling. I think the uptight Professor is about to have us writing on the blackboard soon for talking in his class."

Suzanne could feel her face flush with embarrassment for the thousandth time that morning. She didn't want to think about how foolish and ridiculous she looked to the other three in the room while she shamelessly let this man hang on her. But there was a sudden feeling of warning that flashed in her normally rational mind that went completely unheeded when she came to the realization that she really didn't give a damn _what_ she looked like at the moment.

* * *

**Well...poor girl is all flustered...can you blame her? **


	5. Chapter 4

**AN: And here we have a trip to the museum…one that I would sign up for anytime ; ).**

**Please, please let me know what you all think! Please?!**

**Also the art and literary critiques in here are all mine…at least one I know I share with a friend : ).**

**Sending this out without a crazy edit...so I'll fix things later...**

* * *

_Paris, France_

_Fall 2007_

* * *

Eames wasn't what you'd call a people person…well not in the traditional sense anyway. He liked to watch people, was blessed with a silver tongue and could mold opinions and thoughts like clay in his hands, but he wasn't particularly _interested_ with day to day conversation and interaction with the general public. There was no specific reason, other than the glaringly obvious realization that most "people" were frightfully dull, and couldn't manage to hold is attention for more than a five minute time span.

Beautiful women were the exception. They perhaps got a few hours of his time, before inevitably ending up in the same category of "uninteresting" like the rest and being sent on their merry way. But at least they left with a smile on their face and a wobble in their step.

Ironically the only company he regularly enjoyed was Cobb and his wife. At least time with the couple always gave him the opportunity to expand his mind in dreams and challenge himself; this job would no doubt prove to be no exception. The money certainly sweetened the deal, but honestly he would have done it simply to sharpen his skills; besides Mombasa had been rather droll lately, and he was really due for some excitement.

The slow, methodical click of heels on the polished floor of the museum drew his attention from his own thoughts. It was absolutely silent in the wing, which one could expect from a Thursday afternoon in the middle of September. He watched as she moved from painting to painting, her arms clasped casually behind her back, though her posture was perfectly straight, her bright green eyes sharply focusing on every last detail as if committing it to memory. A strange look of stern concentration furrowed her perfectly pale face, and he couldn't help but smile at the way she was taking something as emotional as art and making it as serious as bridge construction- or God forbid, tax accounting.

But even if that horrible thought was the case, and she was Arthur's clone in a delectably curvaceous little package, Suzanne Williams had managed to spark his interest.

Oh, _she _met _him_ for the first time this morning, but he already knew everything there was to know about her before he walked into the warehouse. Eames never had business dealings with anyone that he didn't know their every last dirty little secret, and Suzanne was no different.

Well…that wasn't true.

She was a friend of dear, wonderful Mallorie, and as the saying went "birds of a feather flocked together". From a purely visual standpoint she was as lovely to look at as the Monet she was currently standing in front of. He never really considered himself to be discriminating where his taste in women were concerned, but the black-haired beauty with her porcelain complexion and bright green eyes made for quite a sight. And of course that was without the more vulgar reaction that was threatening to twitch below his waist at her magnificent figure. There really was nothing like a woman with ample curves and a slim little waist to get the blood flowing.

But aside from the caveman impulses that were currently swirling around in this mind, he was more than impressed with her credentials as well. Judging by her schooling as both a software engineer and an architect she seemed to be at odds between a traditionally creative career and one that would have had her buried in a cubicle for eighty hours a week. He'd seen her published papers and the things she'd designed, and it seemed to him that there was a wonderfully feisty imagination that was just waiting to be tapped into.

Then there was the little something extra that he found that made his blood literally _boil_ with anticipation.

Six months ago Suzanne had been involved with negotiations between the Russian oil company she'd been contracting for, and the Japanese energy giant Proclus Global to integrate the software system on three offshore rigs between the two countries. Apparently there had been a hostile breakdown of talks when the Russians refused a last minute price hike proposed by Proclus CEO Tadashi Saito. According to the newspapers Suzanne had been publicly humiliated by the situation when she'd left his Tokyo office. One week later a computer virus completely crippled the Proclus Company, causing several days and millions of dollars to repair.

Eames was willing to bet the gorgeous woman in front of him was behind it. If that was the case, and she was capable of such naughty behavior- he had to have her.

An almost predatory smile slid across his full lips as he followed her from the silent, large hallway of the Impressionist gallery into a smaller wing with 17th and 18th century Spanish and Italian works. The romance of the age set a perfect little scene for shameless seduction. Thankfully they'd managed to lose the rest of the "field trip" somewhere along the way. It wouldn't do to ply his charms with Arthur ruining the mood with his endless yammering and god-awful taste in art.

Suzanne came to a stop in front of a particularly sad Goya painting, _The Countess del Carpio, Marquesa de La Solana._ Eames watched as her eyes seemed to slowly move over the image of the proud but sickly woman, and he couldn't help but stare at her face as it lost the severe and intense look he'd just seen her give to the picture of water lilies in the previous room. A wistful sigh fell from her pretty pink lips as she began to gently play with the pendant around her neck, it was absolutely enchanting. He casually stole a few steps forward until he was standing just behind her, close enough that he could smell the delicate English Lavender oil that she was wearing, but far enough that he wasn't touching her before he leaned his mouth to her ear.

"You seem to prefer this to flowers, darling." He kept his voice low, and was pleased when he caught the faintest shivering movement in her body.

"I do." She answered simply.

That little answer just wouldn't do. He pressed his luck and moved a fraction closer, just barely brushing against her, but making sure that he was far enough from her round backside to keep from driving himself too crazy.

"Do tell."

"I find very little I can feel from landscape or the anonymous people in most Impressionist work," Suzanne answered candidly. "This woman is staring at me, giving me her time to say something; I enjoy the passion in one person, one moment and one emotion."

Eames listened intently at her explanation; it was interesting, and beautiful. "She's dying." He added unnecessarily.

"She's honest," she countered, "there is no false sense of romance, nothing to mislead you. Goya was her friend when he painted her, and they both knew what was happening. I hate that contrived sense of suffering that is so common to books and paintings."

"So, no flowery romance stories for you then, love?"

Suzanne smiled and he couldn't help but mirror the action as she turned her head to look at him, seemingly losing the flustered nerves she'd had in the warehouse. This was the intellectual woman he'd read about. How lovely it was to meet her.

"I enjoy a good classic romance novel from time to time."

"Do you now," he teased, "a dog-eared copy of _Wuthering Heights_ under your pillow?"

She immediately scrunched up her nose in distaste. "Ugh, God no, I _hate_ that book."

"What?"

"It's a horrific story of absolutely hideous people. Heathcliff is a psychopath and Catherine is a greedy, manipulative witch. I have no idea how people enjoy that crap." She scoffed. "Jane Eyre is no better, pathetic."

Eames shook his head as a genuine laugh puffed out of his mouth at her diatribe of hate against the poor Bronte women. "And what _might_ you enjoy?"

"_Pride and Prejudice_ is far better; at least the characters realize they are behaving like morons before the end." She chuckled back at him, "But honestly, I am a fan of poetry more than novels. Give me a good, sappy Tennyson and I'm done."

"I see." He breathed, smiling against the shell of her ear, "But what _will_ I impress you with, darling, if I lose my repertoire of tortured and impassioned Heathcliff quotations?

Suzanne laughed playfully and stepped away from him, turning her head back to catch him with her bright green eyes in a challenging stare. "I've dreamt in my life dreams that have stayed with me ever after, and changed my ideas; they've gone through and through me, like wine through water, and altered the color of my mind."

She recited Catherine's lines perfectly, and turned back around to walk into the next section of the gallery; she spoke as her back remained turned to him, but he could still hear the smile in her voice. "I am certainly not against hearing your Heathcliff repertoire, Mr. Eames, I just hope it's not that limited."

He stood still for a moment and watched her walk away with a sly grin on his face as his hand slid into the pocket of his grey pants and pulled out a single red poker chip; rolling it between his fingers with smooth, practiced ease, before replacing it again. Oh he'd _definitely_ have her now.

:o:o:o:o

Suzanne managed to make it into the next room and around the corner before she had to pant out the breath that she'd held in when she walked away from him. She couldn't slow her heart down; it was literally pounding so hard against her rib cage she swore that she could feel it slamming against the bones. She was supposed to be remembering details and images for the dreamscape she needed to create, and instead all she could feel, smell and hear was _him_. Christ, she was more than ready to take him back to her apartment and roll around in bed with him for _days_ while he spouted every line from that ridiculous book with his insane mouth and orgasm inducing voice.

_Shit._

There was no way she was going to be able to work with this guy for the next week or so without Mal realizing she wanted to be on him.

She shook her head with a sigh and reached into her pocket to pull out the museum map just as she heard him walking up behind her again. Maybe it was time she found the others; she'd be more apt to relax with them around…because that had worked so well in the warehouse when he draped his solid, warm body all over her.

Damn it.

Instead of waiting for him to catch up to her she picked up her pace and headed towards the well lit stairs, hoping that she would somehow manage to find her dignity and her common sense among the artwork.

:o:o:o:o

She finally found Arthur, Dom and Mal standing in the Michelangelo Gallery, staring at a few of the sculptures in muted conversation.

"How's the studying going?" Dom asked her casually, as his eyes followed the twirls and flourishes of the elaborate marble overhead.

Suzanne shrugged and hated the fact that she knew her cheeks were getting red. "Fine, I spent so much time in here when we were in school that I can pretty much remember all four floors, including where people will bottle neck."

"Good." He answered. "I know he visits enough that he'll be relaxed when he's under and be very apt to talk."

"He's going to need some sort of distraction."

She almost visibly jumped at the sound of Eames' calm drawl as he walked up to the group and came to a stop directly behind her- again.

"Why would he need a distraction? He's already going to be immersed in the art." Arthur asked, setting his dark eyes on the pair of them with a bit of suspicion that Suzanne tried to ignore as best as she could.

Eames sighed. "Thank you for that observation, Arthur. But how do you expect Cobb here to start talking to him if he isn't already in the mood to talk, hmm?" He paused as he stepped closer to her back, his grey eyes playfully challenging the thin man as he silently made a claim. "Conversation is like a seduction, you have to start slowly… gently…and when they are sufficiently warmed up, they'll be eager to share absolutely _everything _with you."

Suzanne's mind went completely blank as his scandalous words slithered into her ears like a dark promise that she was all too eager to accept at the moment.

Arthur, for his point, simply frowned. "What do you have in mind then?"

"Well I'm working on that, aren't I?" Eames replied.

Mal spoke up with a smile to cut off the banter as she took her husband's hand in hers with an affectionate squeeze and lifted it up so she could stare at his watch, "I don't know about the rest of you, but I am starving and ready for an early dinner."

"Sounds good, honey," Dom mumbled as he kissed her forehead.

"I'm in." Arthur agreed, "I have a lot of work to do tonight and I need to get started making phone calls."

Suzanne realized she wasn't hungry at all, which was generally the case when she traveled and her inner clock was off. Instead she stared at the floor map in her hands, feeling completely guilty that she hadn't been paying enough attention for the last few hours, and decided she'd do a bit more work.

"I'm gonna hang back," She finally answered, "I have a few more places that I wanted to take a look at."

Mal leaned over and gave her a quick hug and a kiss, "Don't stay too late. If I don't talk to you later, we should meet tomorrow morning to start layout."

"Ten." She answered with a smile.

The group walked out with a chorus of goodbyes and Suzanne was left standing in the gallery by herself. It only took a moment for her to realize that she wasn't _completely_ alone. Of course he had stayed behind, and he was watching her with his intense pewter stare- again. Suzanne shivered under the scrutiny; he made her feel like she was a deer in the sights of a damn mountain lion and there was only so much that she could run before he took her down.

That really should sound less tempting than it was.

But it wasn't like she was some sort of shrinking violet, she knew the little game he was playing, she'd been playing it for quite some time herself. If he was going to hunt, he'd better be prepared to work for it. After his little mind games and the clever quips and innuendo, he'd better be an Olympic caliber athlete packing a serious weapon in the sack or she was going to be fucking _pissed_.

She laughed to herself as she watched him absently draw his plump lower lip into his mouth and teethe the soft flesh, while giving her a saucy smile…oh, he was good…there was no doubt about that.

:o:o:o:o

Three hours later, Suzanne yawned as she reentered the sculpture gallery again after making an in depth circuit of the entire museum, memorizing every last painting, exhibit and statue. It was now all swimming in her head and she wanted to see one more piece before she headed home for a small bit of dinner and the comfort of her pillow.

She walked to the far corner of the room, expecting to see her absolute favorite sculpture, Canova's _Psyche Revived by Cupid's Kiss; _but was infinitely disappointed to see a small plaque that the artwork had been moved to an adjacent room while tile was repaired beneath it and would be unavailable for viewing for an unspecific amount of time.

Suzanne looked at the locked wire gate beside her and tried to look into the darkened room with a sad frown, she was really looking forward to seeing it again.

A quick movement to her immediate left, drew her attention and she noticed Eames reaching into his pocket and a second later the tell tale noise of a lock falling open.

"Door's open, darling. Let's go have a look." He mumbled with a smile.

Her mouth fell open a bit in surprise as he eased open the metal barrier before gesturing for her to enter and following right after. Suddenly Arthur's earlier comment about him being a "thief" came back to her thoughts with a note of warning. Apparently there was a bit more about Mr. Eames than met the eye- though he actually looked the part in his tacky little ensemble, so who was she kidding.

But her thoughts and musings about his slippery skills died the moment she saw the statue. It was sitting in the middle of the room, illuminated by a single overhead light that made the white marble seem to glow in the otherwise dark space. It was so beautiful, so immensely passionate.

The statue depicted the winged Cupid, god of love, as he kissed his beloved mortal Psyche back to life after she'd been poisoned by a spell from the Underworld. The winged man was crouched over the prone woman, cradling her face and her breast tenderly as she reached back for his head. A look of complete and utter devotion and all consuming need seemed to radiate from the cold stone, making her feel as if she was truly interrupting a scene between two lovers.

"He came to her in the dark."

Eames' low, deep voice was suddenly at her ear again. The hot play of his breath on her neck made the hair stand up on end, and she closed her eyes in absolute rapture as he kept talking.

"Night after night in her bed; he was absolutely taken by the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen."

Suzanne could feel her entire body come to life like she was on fire. Her breasts felt heavy and everything deep in her core was tingling, seeming to pulse in time to the powerful beats of her heart. Unconsciously she felt herself lean back further until she was completely pressed against the solid wall of his form. Even through the clothes she could feel that her earlier assessment about his musculature was correct. He wouldn't be a leanly muscled man from hours at the gym doing pointless exercise instead he was powerful and defined from moving about in the hot, African sun.

And there was no mistaking that her earlier concerns about his anatomy were definitely unfounded. She could feel an unmistakable hardness beginning to press against her backside that sent her mind spinning. Liquid lust was coursing through her veins as she turned her head to stare over her shoulder at him in the dim light, taking in his darkening eyes and his soft mouth, so close to hers.

He made no move to kiss her or touch her with his hands, instead he kept his eyes fixed on hers and said nothing else.

Was he waiting for her to make a move?

Was she actually considering it?

It wasn't just this morning that she had basically shut down any idea of starting a relationship with Arthur because of their involvement with the group, and now she was just moments away from letting this man back her up against the nearest hard surface and do whatever he pleased.

Her lust scrambled brain reminded her that this was the kind of spark she was looking for. The fact that she couldn't stand near this gorgeous, delicious smelling, brutally hot man without wanting to straddle his waist and ride him for all he was worth.

But her practical, analytical mind interjected that he was also as shady as an oak tree in the middle of July. He was obviously acquainted with the unsavory, if he wasn't an out and out criminal. After all Dom was known for riding the line of what was legal pretty damn close, it wouldn't surprise her if that was how they'd acquired the PASIV in the first place.

Was she really going to fuck a man when she didn't even know his first name? And judging by the way the other's addressed him; she got the feeling that they really didn't know it either.

It was _this_ part of her that remembered a part of the lover's tale that he'd left out. After Cupid's mother Venus had discovered her son was dallying with a mortal she demanded that he return to the realm of the Gods. And he abandoned her to heartache.

"He left her." She finally whispered, as her heart rate began to settle down. "When he was put to adversity he left, he was the reason she died."

"But he came back," Eames countered, moving his lips so close they brushed hers. "He couldn't stay away from her."

"He still left."

Suzanne suddenly heard voices coming from the gallery and she knew that the museum had to be closing. It was the perfect moment to snap out of it. Without a thought she stepped away from him and quickly walked through the gate into the main gallery, not looking back as she heard him follow and close the door.

Her hands were still trembling and she nervously tucked a strand of her long hair behind her ear, she just needed to get away from him right now so she could go home and calm down before she did anything foolish.

She didn't even bother to lie to herself and use the word "regret", because she highly doubted that anything that happened between them would be something she'd regret.

"I'm going to go ahead and grab a cab," she spoke with a trembling smile. "I suppose I'll see you tomorrow morning, then?"

Eames was staring blankly at her with a look of pure lust all over his scruffy face, "I suppose, darling, if you insist on waiting that long."

Well, the ball was firmly in her court.

And she chose to pick it up and run her chicken-shit-self home as fast as she could.

"Umm, yes, well enjoy your night and I'll see you in the morning." She managed to choke out, before nodding and walking out of the museum as fast as her legs could carry her. But unfortunately not fast enough to miss his final words, dripping with blatant carnal innuendo.

"Think of me later love, I'll be thinking of you."


	6. Chapter 5

**AN: And here is our first update of the week...and it is just shamelessly tart, like a good, fresh lemonade ; ). **

**I see some traffic on this story and I am super excited! Please give me a little shout to let me know what you think! Thanks!**

**Lazily edited...so again, I will revise if necessary!**

* * *

_Paris, France_

_Fall 2007_

* * *

The ride on the Metro from the Louvre to Montmartre was no more than 20 minutes; but to Suzanne's racing mind and shaking hands, it may well have been 20 hours. She could barely think as she walked into a _boulangerie_ not far from her apartment to grab a loaf of fresh baguette, and then to another store to grab a bottle of white wine and some brie cheese before heading home. It was a simple meal for dinner, but it was all she was craving at the moment. She managed to make it up the stairs and into the small kitchen, before she sat down at one of the metal chairs around her small dining table and let out an audible sigh of frustration.

Now, sitting here almost an hour removed from the darkness and unbearable eroticism of the museum room, she could still smell him on her clothes and feel the unreal warmth of him sold chest against her back. It was utter insanity. She'd known Eames for less than a day, and somehow her entire body now seemed to scream from every cell and pore for him. She'd been in lust with a man before, but this was ridiculous. There was no way _at all_ she was going to be able to walk into that warehouse tomorrow and get any work with him being there…not with his mouth and that voice.

"_Night after night in her bed…" _

The mere memory of the way he said those words was enough to send a delicious tingle down her spine and reignite a cramp of want hotly between her legs. His lips had been so close, it would have taken nothing at all to open her mouth and just take a little taste to sate her curiosity about him.

Suzanne frowned as she stood up and walked to the cabinet, pulling out a glass and fishing out a cork screw. Who the fuck was she kidding; there was no way that she would have been able to slide her tongue against those perfect pillows and then just _stop_. She already knew that his kiss would be the worst kind of drug; far more addictive than anything manufactured, with the sort of withdrawal that would leave her soul drained and desperate for more. The man was the living embodiment of temptation, sin and desire, standing in front of her with a beautiful face and a crooked finger, beckoning her to him with a simple gesture that she was feeling pretty powerless to ignore. For all her brains, all her education and all her practicality, she had nothing that she could fight this with.

A clear, calm voice from the back of her mind suddenly spoke up in the silence with a very interesting question. And why_ are you fighting this again?_

:o:o:o:o

After half a loaf of the delicious bread, most of the creamy cheese and three overflowing glasses of wine later, Suzanne finally made it to her bedroom in a much more relaxed mood. Her head was swimming pleasantly as she stripped out of her clothes and dressed in the oversized grey Boston University t-shirt she always slept in. She glanced at her phone and noted that it was only a little after ten, but she was tired and finally on schedule with the time change, so she decided that sleep was not something to be messed with tonight. She put the phone on her bedside table and slid under the covers, yawning pleasantly as she closed her green eyes and drifted off.

Sleep, however, would apparently not be as easy to achieve as she would have liked.

Suzanne tossed and turned for the better part of an hour before she gave up and stared at the ceiling above her bed. Her mind, which had been mercifully quiet up until now, began to recall everything about the afternoon she'd spent with the roguish man in the museum. The way he'd quietly observed her for hours as she walked up and down the exhibit halls. He didn't say a word, just watching her with his sharp eyes and seeming to memorize and study her the same way that she was cataloguing the paintings. The only clue to his presence was the occasional whiff of his delicious, spicy scent that tickled her nose.

As if it was a reflex she breathed deep, wanting to smell him again, wondering what it would be like to wake up with her sheets covered in that musk. She closed her eyes and bit her lip as the next thought that entered her mind was seeing a beautiful expanse of tanned, muscled _man _wrapped up in the cotton bedcovers next to her. She'd felt how solid he was when she leaned against him, and now her imagination had her practically salivating with ideas about what he looked like underneath his clothes.

"_He came to her in the dark…"_

Suzanne let a breathy groan of pleasure pass her lips as his voice entered her mind again. She focused on the smooth, warm tone and instantly she could see him flash behind the lids of her eyes in stark detail. Everything from the scruff on his face, to the fullness of his mouth…and _God _that _accent_!

Her hands seemed to move of their own volition, sliding over the top of her thin, worn t-shirt, before one dipped down to touch the soft, sensitive skin on the insides of her thighs. She sighed languidly, and her mind focused on the image of his face as her fingers began to creep below the elastic waist of her sedate, sensible, plain white cotton panties. Suzanne perhaps should have been a little more self conscious with the thought of bringing herself off to Eames' image, but truthfully it was something that lately she'd had to do far more than she would have admitted. She hadn't been lying to her mother this morning when she said that she often preferred her own, proficient hands to the pathetic, fumbling attempts from others. Call it another manifestation of her efficient, practical personality.

She moaned lowly as her fingers crept beneath the fabric and lightly caressed the warm flesh between her legs, shuddering as it came to life with a pleasant tingle. The slick moisture began to flow as she teased herself, threading her fingers into the folds of her femininity before letting one trail up to begin gently rubbing the very tip of her most sensitive place. Another moan spilled from her lips as she focused on her mental projection of him, willing that it was his rough, calloused hands instead of hers circling the taut little nub of flesh that was beginning to grow and swell under her attentions.

Suzanne arched her back as a jolt of pleasure surged from her core, and she could feel her heart begin to race, her insides clenching and tightening as her orgasm began to build. Her movements sped up slightly, and she increased her pressure on the sensitive flesh, whimpering as she raced towards the edge…all the while thinking of _him_.

Suddenly, just as she was about to crest the plateau, the loud chirp of her phone pulled her out of her fog of lust. She tried to ignore it, but curiosity got the better of her and she reluctantly reached out to grab the offending device, staring at an international phone number that she didn't recognize. She let it go to voice mail and tried to regain the intensity in her body that she had lost; growling in frustration when it rang again. Suzanne once again ignored it, but when moments later it rang again, she finally picked it up with a huff, grumbling as she was left with a sensation of orgasmic suspension.

"Hello?" She said with a breathless sound of frustration in her voice.

"Well hello, darling."

The sound of Eames' warm, dulcet voice filled her ears and instantly her body was flooded with an almost electric sensation of lust. She could feel her face flush in the darkness as her heart pounded and a flood of moisture gushed between her legs, she was right there again. It would take nothing now to come…while she listened to him…God. But a sense of curiosity cut right through her passions.

"How did you get my number?"

He chuckled and she could almost picture the smug look on his face as he answered her. "Our dear friend Mallorie of course, I told her I wanted to make sure that you made it home alright."

"I'm just fine."

"That's lovely to hear. I was very concerned when you didn't answer at first." Eames' smile was almost audible, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

Suzanne swallowed and had to squeeze her thighs together to relieve the pressure of the overheated flesh between her legs. "No."

"Are you sure, darling?" He pressed her, his voice dropping to a rich, husky whisper. "You're breathing so hard, like you've just run a marathon."

"I was sleeping." She protested.

"Mmhm, must have been quite the dream, I bet your heart is racing."

Suzanne fell silent as her hand started to wander again; she literally had to ball it into a fist to stop from touching the place that was screaming for completion.

"Don't stop touching yourself on my account, love."

He _knew_- he fucking _knew_ what she'd been doing. And it really should have embarrassed her, that she'd been caught red-handed like a horny teenager, instead it only seemed to amplify and intensify the sensation of want in her body.

"You aren't the only one, don't feel bad. I've been lying in bed giving myself a hand since I got back." His voice was a low, seductive purr as he continued, "I can't stop thinking about you in that dark room, darling."

His dirty, salacious confession was like adding gasoline on a blazing fire. An involuntary whimper passed through her lips and this time her hand wouldn't be stopped. It instantly moved down, slipping underneath her damp cotton panties to resume stroking her swollen little pearl. The rush of hot, molten pleasure curled her toes and somehow managed to make her brazen.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, Mr. Eames. I am doing nothing of the sort."

The breathy pant of her voice instantly gave her away and she knew it.

"I'm sure." He laughed again, "Tell me, utilitarian, functional, and plain white cotton aren't they."

She could NOT believe she was going to do this with him, and she studiously knew the three glasses of wine that was humming through her bloodstream was not helping the situation at all. At least it would give her an excuse in the morning for her behavior.

"They are."

An exhaled huff that sounded like a groaning laugh echoed through the phone, "I knew it."

Suzanne moaned softly and she could hear his breathing speed up. She could actually picture him, naked and stretched out on a rumpled bed in a seedy section of the city, perhaps near one of the many cabarets not far from where she was currently lying. But when she tried to imagine his body, or _that_ part of him, she found she couldn't come up with anything that would do him, or her fantasy, justice.

"Is there something wrong with that?" She breathed the question as another jolt shot up her spine.

"Not at all, love." He lazily replied. "I bet they look delectable against that pale flesh of yours; though personally I'd prefer you in satin or silk."

"Is that so?" She gasped as her hand began to speed up, the tension in her pelvis beginning to twist and clench once again.

"Mmhm, so soft against fingers… a mouth…a tongue… and so easily soaked though when it gets wet."

The image of his head between her legs and those amazing lips on her skin was all it took to send her over the edge. She came with a breathless whine, her back arching and her thighs squeezing together as her insides twisted and fluttered with amazing power. Her ears faintly registered the low groan that rumbled into her ear from Eames' side of the phone, apparently the same scenario had been too much for him to deal with as well. Suzanne gasped and panted as she tried to calm down, the aftershocks of sensation rolling through her, and even though it had been incredible, she was still in the mood for more.

"That was just delicious. My God darling, I think I'll have that little noise in my mind all night." Eames sighed pleasantly.

Suzanne smiled, the languid pleasure making her mind numb to the embarrassment or self consciousness she should have felt. "I do hope you manage to sleep tonight Mr. Eames, we have a busy day ahead of us."

"Ah, yes, wouldn't want to fall asleep on the job; though it _would_ be worth it to see the look on Arthur's face when I tell him why I'm so worn out."

"Terrible," She scolded with a quiet laugh, a yawn following right behind.

"Ah, seems like someone is finally tired." He chuckled back. "I'll let you go and get back to that dream you were having."

"Thanks."

"Sweet dreams, love." His honey-smooth voice purred. "See you there."

"Goodnight, Mr. Eames." Suzanne replied, closing her eyes and memorizing the tone before hanging up the phone and curling up beneath the covers. It was definitely going to be an interesting day in the warehouse tomorrow.

:o:o:o:o:o

Suzanne hadn't slept that well in months.

She woke up the next morning at eight, completely refreshed and stretched with a sigh in her bed before jumping in the shower. After drying her hair and applying a light coat of makeup to play up her green eyes, she stood near her clothes with a frown. What should she wear? Should she dress up for him or something?

Her current state of stupidity and foolishness irritated her immensely. Nothing had changed, she'd flirted with him at the museum and had some sort of dirty phone sex, like conversation with him last night, but that was it. He wanted to fuck her and she wanted to fuck him and that was just about the situation in a nutshell. There was no reason at all to get herself all worked up for nothing. She settled on a plain, black ankle length skirt, her flats, and a very pale pink mohair v-neck sweater that clung to her figure. It looked good enough to draw attention, without looking like she was trying. Just in case Mr. Eames was no longer interested after their little "talk".

As if by some sort of divine reality her phone buzzed and she picked it up to notice that she had a text message from him.

_Have to run out this morning for a little research on our client, see you this afternoon. Didn't want you to think I ran off, darling._

Suzanne smiled and typed back: _I appreciate that; my ego would never have recovered_.

She found herself staring at the number and suddenly, without another thought she scrolled to her contact list and saved it under "Mr. Eames". The tiny voice in the back of her head spoke up, suggesting that "trouble" may have been a more appropriate moniker for the devilishly handsome Brit.

Without another thought she grabbed her laptop bag and her purse and walked out of the apartment towards the closest Metro stop.

:o:o:o:o

"Suzanne?" Mal's voice pulled her out of her complete daze. She had been staring at her computer and the CAD workup of the maze that they had been working all morning on for the past four hours without taking a break.

"What?" She answered with a sigh.

"I asked if you wanted a little lunch, you haven't blinked or moved for the last hour." Her friend needled playfully, handing her a bottle of sparkling water and a wrapped up ham and cheese sandwich on fresh, crusty bread.

"Thanks, hun." Suzanne answered with a smile, closing her laptop and turning to face her. "I was starting to go cross-eyed."

Mal laughed and gently opened up her sandwich. "So, seeing as we are all alone this morning, we have the duty of gossiping like school girls."

"What about?" Suzanne asked with a raised eyebrow before taking a sip of her water. "You have anything good."

"It seems that you have an admirer."

She froze for a moment and tried to act nonchalant, for some odd reason she wasn't quite sure if she wanted to openly discuss her…whatever it was…with Eames. So she decided to just act dumb.

"Really?"

Mal rolled her big blue eyes, "Like you haven't noticed. Arthur seems quite taken with you."

"Oh."

Now she really was utterly confused about what to say. She had noticed that he was interested, the problem was she wasn't. "Yeah, I had noticed that."

"I was going to encourage him," Mal said, chewing daintily on a bit of food. "But that was before Mr. Eames called me last night at eleven for your phone number."

Her face was bright red; she could actually feel the heat rising up from her collar to stain her chest and neck. "Yeah, thanks for giving that to him, I really needed a late night phone call."

"So he_ did_ call," She grinned.

"Yes." She was on fire with mortification.

"He is just too handsome." Mal sighed, rolling her eyes back in her head. "You _have_ to tell me how he is."

Suzanne nearly choked on the mouthful of sandwich that was in her mouth at her friend's brazen words. "Excuse me?"

"In bed- although I am pretty sure he's not one for limiting his creativity." She unnecessarily explained.

"No, I got that was what you meant." Suzanne coughed and took a long drink of her water. "I just can't believe you said that."

"Why not?"

There was no way she was having this conversation. It was pathetic, not to mention that things Mal said had an awful way of ending up in Dom's ears, and that meant that Arthur would hear about it. Thankfully it was that time that the three men decided to appear and save her from having to say anything else.

Dom came over and kissed his wife on the cheek and Arthur followed close behind, setting down the silver case of the PASIV on the long table adjacent from her laptop. She tried to keep her head down and studiously ignore the other man, but it was hopeless. He was dressed up in a suit, and not like the ridiculous, outdated ensemble that he'd been wearing yesterday. It was a well made and perfectly tailored, if not bespoke, the black color of the pants and coat set of perfectly against the maroon button up shirt he wore beneath it. He wasn't wearing a tie, and the top two buttons were open, giving her just the barest peek of his tanned, muscled chest. Upon further inspection she noticed a bit of black scroll on the exposed skin near his collarbone, but she couldn't make out a design.

Of course he had tattoos, because there wasn't enough about him that wasn't fucking sexy as hell. His grey eyes met hers a moment later and a devious smile slid across his face, she'd been caught oogling.

Eames pulled out the chair closest to her and sat down, helping himself to the other half of her sandwich. Suzanne couldn't think straight as she watched him chew, licking his lips every once and a while. She could actually hear him in her head, and damn it all if she didn't hear his suggestive words from last night.

He seemed completely unaffected. For a moment she was actually completely convinced that the entire thing was a dream…that was until he leaned over to grab her bottle of water and let his mouth hover over to her ear, the play of his hot breath instantly sending chills down her spine.

"I slept like a baby last night, love. How about you?"

She turned her head to meet his and smiled despite the redness in her cheeks, "Definitely well rested."

He smiled back with a saucy wink and settled back in his chair as she opened her computer to get back to work on her layout of the museum.

:o:o:o:o

Eames spent the afternoon sorting through the various notes and photographs he'd collected over the past few weeks on William Graham while following him all around London. The man was a serious glutton when it came to spending his money on pleasure and the finer things in life. He was married to a frigid witch of a woman, but spent his nights in the company of various escorts as he wined and dined them all over the city. It was a definite weakness he planned to exploit. He had been practicing the ability to change his mental projection of himself within the dream construct and had actually been successful a few times mimicking someone who ironically looked a lot like Mallorie's father, Stephen. But with Graham he would need to concentrate on a far more pleasing form.

As if his body knew what he was thinking, his eyes darted off to the gorgeous thing diligently working next to him. She had been typing furiously for the better half of the afternoon, and he couldn't help but stare at the way her perfect posture had her back curved, pushing out her perfectly rounded breasts and rolling her hips to the curve of her ass. He bit his lip and smiled as he imagined observing that curve from a much more intimate angle, say kneeling on his bed and having her bent over in front of him.

He crossed his legs as he felt himself twitch and stiffen beneath his pants. She looked so prim and proper as she sat at her computer in her conservative outfit, and yet just last night he'd heard her moan and come over the phone with very little prodding- there was that naughty girl he was looking for.

He hadn't been lying when he told her he'd slept like a baby. It was the longest self-serving session he'd ever had, though even though it had been more than a standard jerk-off, he now was cursed with knowing what she sounded like, but not what she looked like when she lost control. And that just wouldn't do at all. He wanted to see her with her head thrown back and her black hair spilled all around her like an inky cloud while he pounded away at her from every conceivable angle. Oh, and to hear her scream…and she _would_ scream for him…it would be intoxicating.

But time was limited. The job would only take another week or so, and after that there was no telling where their paths would take them. Eames reasoned that if he was going to get this woman he had to get a move on. He stared at his watch and noticed it was coming up on six, a perfect time for dinner…and they were both dressed for the occasion…perhaps he'd do a little wining and dining of his own tonight.

After all it _was_ research into how a woman behaved in that situation, and there was never anything more enjoyable than mixing work and pleasure.


	7. Chapter 6

**AN: As promised to an impatient little bee…I give you the next installment of tart little citrusy goodness…**

**For your curiosity I suggest you look up the restaurant mentioned in here to get a real sense of the room (and the prices) as there are no words that do it justice. **

**I am so pleased people are finding and enjoying this story! Please, please read and review!**

**Again, lazy edit…but someone is behind me with a whip demanding I post…so I'll get on fixing anything later… ; )**

**Enjoy, darlings.**

* * *

Seduction, like anything else that was stimulating to the mind, requires patience to be successful...well, that and imagination. For someone like Eames it was also a lovely little chess game that he quite enjoyed playing from time to time when a worthy opponent presented themselves; although, admittedly, those had been rather hard to come by for quite some time.

It was the reason he was giving himself for the strange way that he couldn't get Suzanne off of his mind. She was a rare combination of looks, brains and creativity that he would like to think that he possessed as well, and when one meets their proverbial "match" there is very little that can come between them and the biological imperative to mate.

Darwinism and natural selection at its finest, he wanted to fuck her senseless like some sort of savage brute based on the knowledge that the two of them were evenly matched…and that was it. It certainly had nothing to do with the fact that while he had memorized her on paper, he still wanted to know every last little thing about her for no reason other than his curiosity and desire to see her smile.

He looked away from his files and the large chalkboard he was filling up with various notes about the client at hand to see Arthur walk over to where Suzanne was sitting and casually lean his slender, well dressed self against the table and start talking to her about something. It was only the three of them left in the building, Dom and Mal had knocked off early to head to her parent's house to spend the weekend with their charming children- and as the phrase went, "three was becoming a crowd".

Eames frowned as he watched the man's brown eyes light up as he talked, occasionally waving his hands in excitement, and the frown turned to a scowl as he saw the tell tale red flush of embarrassment on his ears. Unfortunately for his current mood he was stuck staring at the back of her head and her shiny, ebony hair. He couldn't see her face, and by proxy her reaction to him. Her body gave away no clues, her shoulders were square and her back was straight with that amazing ass pointing at him…after a minute or so he'd had enough.

With a careless flourish, he flipped the paper work in his hand onto the table next to him and stared first at his watch, noting the time (ten to six) and then he pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and made a quick phone call, before replacing the device and strolling over to where the unsuspecting woman was sitting.

"Don't you have something constructive to do, Arthur?" Eames sighed as he came up behind Suzanne's chair, resting his hands on her delicate shoulders and loving the way she slightly trembled at his touch. "Suzie here has been working all day like a busy bee and was just going to head home to get dressed because she has dinner reservations with me tonight at eight. So shoo. We'll be back here on Monday to finish up."

She turned around with a puzzled look on her beautiful face and he loved seeing a smile fall across her pretty pink mouth as she registered his statement.

"I do?"

"Yes darling, Le Meurice. I am sure that you have a cute little black dress or something else that will look wonderful." He leaned over her shoulder and closed her laptop to emphasize the end of the conversation. "Now get a move on, I'll be waiting at your door at quarter till."

He was infinitely pleased when she appeared to have nothing to say back to him in rejection of the surprise invitation, and instead eagerly closed up shop, tossing her computer over her shoulder, and practically running out the door. He couldn't help the devious grin that split his face as Arthur's face fell at her enthusiasm.

Eames shook his head and laughed at the point man's misfortune, patting him in the shoulder as he walked by, "How about this darling, the next pretty architect that we work with I'll give you first crack at her."

:o:o:o:o

Suzanne practically sprinted home. Part of her was still in shock at Eames' declaration, and the other part was actually frustrated that he had made dinner reservations at a five star restaurant and given her less than two hours to get ready. She ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time and threw her bags at the door and immediately jumping into the shower.

She was grateful for her ability to multi-task as she managed to wash her hair and shave her legs at the same time, taking care to apply a generous lather of the lavender soap and have a second run at her legs with the razor. One could not be too careful in this situation…though just because of she was shaving her legs did _not_ mean that she was going to sleep with him.

But it would be good, just in case she found her thighs wrapped around his head later in the evening, to make sure they were nice and smooth.

As she was rinsing her hair she actually laughed out loud at the fact that she owed her mother a huge "thank you" for the spa day she took her on when she stopped home before she came to Paris. Most notably the below the waist waxing appointment she'd made as a joke that Suzanne was forced to endure. At the time she wanted to punch her, now not so much.

She rolled her wet hair into the huge hot rollers she had, and spread lavender lotion up and down every inch of skin on her body before walking over to her closet and staring at her clothes. There were a couple of decent dresses that she had, but nothing glamorous. Certainly nothing that screamed five hundred Euros worth of food.

Reluctantly she settled on a pale, yellow-green spaghetti strap sheath dress that clung nicely to her curves, and fell just above her knee. There was a bit of gathered fabric on the wide, straight neck of the bodice that drew the eye, and while it wasn't a v-shape, the cut sat low enough that a decent amount of her ample cleavage would be on display thanks to her handy, black lace strapless bra. But undergarments were proving to be a bit of a problem. The one decent matching thong she owned was visible through the delicate fabric…and cotton was not an option with this outfit. She took a deep breath and slid off the visible thong and opted to go sans underpants for the evening.

To take her mind off of it she fished out her pride and joy heels from the bottom of her suitcase. They were still wrapped in their individual red bags to keep them safe, and as she slid on the four inch, buttery soft, black Christian Louboutin pumps she'd bought herself for Christmas everything faded away. The shoes made her feel incredibly sexy, and suddenly the panties predicament was a worry of the past.

Suzanne gently dried her hair and pulled out the rollers, smiling as her long black hair fell in elegant, bouncing waves around her shoulders. She decided to go conservative on the makeup, lining her eyes with black and really playing up her eyelashes with dark mascara, she barely dusted her eye lids with a light coat of silver shadow and painted her lips a light red.

After fixing the crescent moon pendant around her neck she threw on a few simple silver bracelets, grabbed a tailored black blazer that she often used for a light coat, and tossed a few items from her purse and her phone into a black clutch. He should be here any minute.

The rational side of her head thought it would be far more appropriate for her to meet him out on the street, because standing in her apartment, looking the way he had earlier, would most likely be bad news for various pieces of furniture in the kitchen and they'd never make the reservation.

She took one last look at herself in the mirror and took a deep breath, it was just dinner, she reminded herself- that's all he asked you for…at the moment.

:o:o:o:o

Suzanne walked down the stairs just as Eames was rounding the corner; she couldn't help but smile and blush as she stared openly at him. He was still wearing the same suit from earlier, and goddamn it all if he didn't look like a million bucks.

"Should I thank Mal for giving away my address too?" She needled.

He smiled and came to a stop right in front of her, far too close for personal space to come into play. "Ah yes, she was rather forthcoming with that bit of personal information." He teased as he leaned in close and let his lips barely brush the sides of both her cheeks in a very chaste greeting. "But enough of that thought, you look bloody gorgeous this evening, love."

"Thank you," She said quietly as he stayed close, more of that delicious, musky smell wafting into her nose. "You clean up very well yourself, Sir."

Eames turned to her and crooked out his elbow in a gesture fitting a complete gentleman, before speaking like a scoundrel. "Now let's get a cab darling, because we both know the only walking those shoes are made for is around the bedroom floor."

:o:o:o:o

She'd been past Le Meurice _once_ when she was in school, but the gorgeous architecture of the exterior hotel seemed to be dwarfed by the grandeur of the inside restaurant. It was a masterpiece of silver and elaborate 17th Century elegance. All of the paintings, ornate frescoes and crystal chandeliers had Suzanne staring like a wide eyed child who sees their first Christmas tree. Suddenly, even dressed up as she was, she began to feel out of place as she looked around at the upper crust crowd around them. Her dinner partner however seemed to have no scruples at all.

Eames seemed to transform the minute he walked into the room from cheeky rogue to dapper gentleman. His velvet voice asked the maître d in perfect French for their reservation, before walking tall through the restaurant- as if he belonged amongst the elite bourgeoisie. He pulled out her chair in a show of perfect chivalry and then sat across the table from her as the host departed and informed them that the waiter would be right over with their drink order.

Her green eyes were still taking in the amazing ambiance of the almost ethereal environment when he finally cleared his throat, "You look incredible, darling- trust me. There isn't a man in this room that isn't envious of where I am sitting at the moment."

Suzanne smiled strangely, shocked that he was able to read her body language with such accuracy. "You are a flatterer aren't you, Mr. Eames."

He reached across the table to take her hand, lifting it up to brush his lips against the knuckles in a lingering kiss, "I have never claimed to be anything else."

Her stomach flip-flopped pleasantly as he dropped her hand from his mouth but did not release it. His rough thumb rubbed gentle circles against the soft skin on the back of her hand and she could literally feel her heart melting as she stared across the candle lit table at his unbearably handsome face. She was supposed to be here for vacation- or work- not diving headlong into a molten pool of insane lust with a man she had just met.

And as Mr. Eames slowly pulled his lower lip into his mouth with a devilish grin, Suzanne knew he had just read her mind again.

:o:o:o:o

The food was _unbelievable_.

Suzanne had to stifle any number of small whimpers and whines as she tasted course after course of the most indulgent food she'd ever enjoyed, washing it down with a decadent variety of wines. He'd originally proposed the _degustation menu _insisting that there was no reason they shouldn't enjoy all the chef had to offer, and as she sipped on her third small taste of wine (with four more to go) she wasn't quite sure he wasn't trying to drug her with the pleasure of it all.

"So," Eames sighed as he wiped his mouth with a crisp white napkin, leaning back in his chair with a smile, "Ms. Suzanne Elizabeth Williams of 85 Richdale Street, Cambridge, Massachusetts, software engineer and architect- tell me all everything I couldn't find out about you with a thorough search."

She rolled her eyes and laughed at his audacity, for anyone else it would have had her throwing her $30 glass of wine at him, but somehow he got what he was looking for. "Let's see, I grew up just outside of Boston in Northborough on a horse farm, I am the only child of Pauline and Allan, a property accountant and a geologist respectively. I went to school in Paris on a whim, and despite the fact that both my parents demanded that I see the world as a child, they are now of the opinion that I am overdue to settle down with a man and pop out a kid or two. We discuss it on our weekly Sunday morning phone calls."

He laughed, seemingly very interested in what she thought was a rather boring tale of her upbringing.

"I'm assuming that a charming thing like you is daddy's little girl."

"Absolutely," Suzanne answered. "But not a pretty princess, I spent more time mucking out stalls and digging rocks in the dirt than wearing dresses and chasing boys."

"Ah, so not a graceful, flexible ballerina, that's disappointing."

The innuendo was not lost and she arched a black eyebrow before cocking her head with confidence, "Actually I was a figure skater for fifteen years if you must know. It was my only concession to my mother that I do something 'feminine' while in school. And yes, I am very graceful and flexible."

Eames leaned forward on his elbows in an exaggerated display of interest at her statement. "Well now you have my attention, love. Go on."

"That's all really. I work and I spend time at home when I'm not working. Not terribly interesting I'm sorry to say." She continued honestly before taking a long sip of her wine.

He observed her for another moment before he smiled again, "So what is an obviously gorgeous, intelligent and successful woman like you doing without the company of a man?"

Suzanne blushed at the questing look in his grey eyes. She shrugged lamely, "I find most people, and this includes men, not worth the effort. I don't have much time to myself and I don't want to waste it on someone uninteresting."

"And this includes intimate company?" He asked with another rakish grin, biting his lower lip in amusement when her entire face went red.

She finished off her wine with a gulp, finding a bit of bravery in the bottom of the glass. "Unfortunately there has been a drought in that department, yes."

"That is just inexcusable," he scolded wagging a finger at her. "A woman like you should be regularly set to blissful exhaustion by a man's insatiable attention."

She had to stare down at the empty plate in front of her, as the hot, red blush surged to her cheeks. Thankfully the waiter chose to appear with their next glass of wine and the next course of perfectly roasted duck slices over a small collection of glazed root vegetables. He had barely set the plates down when Eames asked, "So how long _has_ it been since you've had a good, attentive lover thoroughly satisfy you, darling."

Suzanne's eyes nearly bugged out of her head at his brazen words, blushing even more fiercely. The waiter seemed to disregard the situation and disappeared after casually asking if everything was to their liking. She finally looked up at him and still couldn't find the words.

"Well, enough about me, why don't we talk about you, Mr. Eames?" She deflected quickly taking a bite of the rich meat.

"No, no. We are talking about _you_ tonight, love." He mused with a sly grin, reading her face again. "Though for the record I am currently unattached and have been for a very long time."

"Well that is good to know," She commented quietly as she sipped her wine, feeling it begin to pleasantly tingle in her cheeks.

Eames being the conversational chameleon that he was, instantly changed the subject, luring her back to a sedate and safe discussion about literature, poetry and film. And even though she knew that it was no more than the same reprieve that a cat gave to a mouse it was toying with before the kill, she appreciated the breathing room- even if it was just an excuse to have a little more liquid courage.

:o:o:o:o

By the time that dessert rolled around Suzanne's mind was legitimately floating in an abyss of wine, calories and gorgeous Englishman. Before she knew what she was doing she was sipping on a perfectly dry vodka martini and staring at a small dish of fresh strawberries macerated in a chocolate reduction and pears glazed with sweet honey.

Suddenly as if out of some sort of over the top romantic novel, Eames stood up from his seat across the table and relocated to one directly next to her.

"Now, a desert like this should be savored in close quarters," He smiled as he leaned over to take a small amount of the berries on a perfectly polished silver fork before gently feeding her the morsel. Suzanne licked her lips out of reflex and let out a small sigh of enjoyment. He watched the entire display with rapt attention, his pewter eyes flashing a shade of darkness that reminded her of the moment in the museum yesterday. He brought his lips to her ear and she shivered as he spoke in a low tone that was absolutely dripping with seduction and loud enough for her only.

"Every beautiful noise you make out of that pretty mouth reminds me of what you sound like when you lose control. It's maddening, love." She froze as she felt the warmth of his huffing breath pause just as a split second later he tongued the lobe of her ear with a quick swipe. "I can't get it out of my head."

Suzanne was trembling as she turned to look at him, unwilling this time to pull her head back- and knowing that he wouldn't move. She was met by a pair of full lips and this time she was the one to brush his, fueled with vodka laced bravery she smiled against him. "I have no idea what you mean, Mr. Eames, you heard nothing of the sort last night."

"Is that right?" He drawled staring at her mouth before moving to her ear again, inadvertently exposing her nose to his neck and a concentrated dose of his cologne. It hit her like a sledgehammer and her insides instantly clenched and throbbed in response to the overwhelming scent of him, "Because I haven't come that hard in _ages _and I'd hate to think I did it alone."

Her mouth fell open in shocked surprise at his confession, while her eyes shut and a small moan of need escaped at the same time.

"Mmm, that's the one right there, darling."

He pulled away and Suzanne was left literally panting as she opened her dazed eyes and tried to focus on him again. Her heart was pounding and she was so wet she had an absent thought that perhaps underwear would have been a good idea after all. Eames observed her face for a moment longer and she felt trapped by his scrutiny, he was weighing something behind his eyes and she saw it too late. It all happened in slow motion. He leaned across her lap to reach her drink, fishing out the toothpick speared olive and bringing it to his mouth before letting his tongue languidly slide out from in between his perfect lips to capture the tangy fruit only a hair's breadth from her own mouth.

All the while his eyes bored into hers, tempting her with a promise to be that attentive lover he'd referenced earlier.

Oh and God help her, she was absolutely powerless to refuse him.

All her practicality and common sense came crashing down the minute she felt his warm, calloused fingers slide under the table cloth and stroke the skin of her thigh. Suzanne bit her lip completely gave in, closing her eyes as she let her legs fall open to give him clear access to her aching core. It took no more than she barest caress of his fingertip against the screaming flesh before she felt herself come undone, in a surprising burst of strength her orgasm took her lightening fast and completely off guard. Her entire body shook and Eames leaned into her with a low, appreciative groan of his own, using his weight to steady her.

Her face was flushed and her chest was heaving as she came to. The mortification of the situation dawned on her- he'd made her come in _public _at one of the most expensive and exclusive restaurants in the city. But whatever embarrassment she felt inside was tempered with more desire when she felt him slide his hand down her leg slowly and bring it out from underneath the table and up to his mouth where he savored the finger he'd touched her with the same way that he had the olive.

"_Delicious._" He growled with a whisper as he brought his mouth to her ear again.

Everything in her head and body was screaming, and she leaned in to tell him that he could have whatever he wanted when the waiter loudly cleared his throat.

Eames nonchalantly began to talk him up, asking for the tab as if nothing at all had just happened while Suzanne was left trying to find her senses and not look like she'd just lost her shit at the same table they ate a six hundred Euro meal.

:o:o:o:o

The cab ride back to her apartment was silent as her vodka and hormone drunk mind tried to form a rational thought. Did she invite him up? Would he ask?

She mulled every last scenario as Eames arm casually draped over her shoulder pulling her against him with a noncommittal show of affection.

After paying the cab fare he gently took her arm in his and escorted her to her door like a perfect gentleman. Thankfully the cooler fall air had managed to calm her overheated body and Suzanne was thinking a little more clearly. As they arrived at the door to the alcove she was going to ask him if he wanted her to contribute anything to the no-doubt exorbitant tab.

But as she turned to speak he suddenly had her pressed up hard against the wall. The entire solid weight of his body held her fast and her green eyes opened in complete shock as one of his hands came up to tangle in the hair at the base of her scalp, tugging with just enough pressure to make her gasp out in surprise and pleasure.

"Before you ask," Eames spoke in a husky whisper, bringing his mouth to hover over hers. "No, you cannot pay for your half of the meal, love. I did it for my own selfish gratification, and it was worth every second in your company."

He shifted his body again and Suzanne gasped against his lips as she felt an unmistakable hardness pressing insistently against her hips, the thin barrier of her dress doing very little to shield her against the impressive form. She tried to focus on his lust darkened eyes but she found herself too light headed to do anything but hold onto the brick wall for support and whimper helplessly as a flood of arousal surged through her entire body.

God, she wanted him so fucking bad she could taste it. Suzanne tried to silently convey everything to him, knowing that he'd be able to pick up on it, just as he had with everything else all night.

And as his hand tightened in her hair she let her eyes fall shut in rapt expectation for the taste of those full lips on hers. Her breathing shuddered and her heart pounded in her chest as she felt him lean in to brush her mouth ever so lightly…before pulling away.

The rush of cold air that came to occupy the space of his warmth had her opening her eyes in confusion to take in his handsome face lit up with passion and amusement.

"Now, now darling," He scolded as he grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips, letting his tongue come out to taste the soft skin before placing a chaste kiss in the same place. "You've already had a sweet dessert once tonight; we can't have you being a glutton now, can we?"

Suzanne took her hand back and shakily tucked her hair behind her ear, gathering up the shreds of her self confidence and dignity to compile a decent retort to the embodiment of pure sex in front of her. "I suppose I'll just have to have my seconds of dessert alone then, Mr. Eames."

He chuckled and winked playfully at her as he turned away, "Sweet dreams, love. I am only a phone call away."

"Good night."

:o:o:o:o

Suzanne was more than dazed as she walked up the stairs with a ridiculous smile on her face and a wave or raging passion still swirling in her gut.

She felt as giddy as a damn school girl and she honestly didn't want to wait until Monday to see him again at work. She half wondered if it would be pathetic to call him in the morning and ask him to breakfast…though he really didn't seem like the type to be up early. That is unless he was rolling over for a morning romp- because she had the feeling that he was _definitely_ up for that.

With a sigh she stripped off her dress and changed into her usual t-shirt before crawling into bed. Suzanne had just closed her eyes and drifted off into a calm sleep when a sudden furious banging on her door shattered the quiet of the apartment. She sat up as loud voices yelled out in both French and English to "open the door, immediately".

Suzanne threw on a pair of black leggings and ran to the door in a panic. She opened it to see two men in full fire gear staring at her.

"Can I help you?" She sleepily asked in English, before repeating it in garbled French.

"Gas leak somewhere in the building, Miss," One of them explained. "You need to leave here right now."

"I can call the owner," She offered.

"No, you need to leave. We will call them in the morning, but you need to go for the night so we can clear it out. Right now, this is an emergency."

Suzanne's eyes went wide as she turned around, "Let me just get dressed, one moment please."

She ran into her bedroom and threw on the oversized white knit sweater she'd worn the other day and slipped on her black flats, trying to stay calm as the men yelled for her to "hurry". She finally threw the clutch she'd used that night into her pocketbook and grabbed that and her laptop as the firemen ushered her out of the apartment and down to the street.

There was a crowd of about fifteen people in an equal state of disheveled mind and she actively wondered where the hell she was going to spend the night.

It was just before midnight, she didn't want to disturb the Cobb's and Miles' as they were outside the city and would have to drive all the way in to pick her up. She didn't know Arthur's number to ask about crashing on his couch, and somehow she knew that even if she had it she wouldn't call.

That only left one person.

With a nervous smile she picked up her phone and dialed Eames…

* * *

**Oh, my...**


	8. Chapter 7

**AN: You know my back hurts from the pressure…lol. I gladly give you this little bit, darling bee : )**

**And here I need to give unimaginable credit to Mals86 for her immense knowledge of all things that smell nice…seriously…**

**As always I own nothing but my imagination and the hope that a few find enjoyment in it...so review…_please_? **

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_Paris, France _

_Fall 2007_

* * *

Suzanne stood on the corner of her street as people milled around and fire sirens lit up the midnight sky. But despite the cacophony of noise, it somehow was eerily silent in her head as she stared down at her phone and contemplated the multitude of implications of calling him tonight.

What was she even supposed to _say_ to him when she called?

"Hello, Mr. Eames, I know we've only known one another for two full days, and in that time you've nearly seduced me at a national museum, given me an orgasm with your panty melting voice over the phone _and _after touching me with only one finger in the middle of a ridiculously expensive meal, all while I've been constantly eye fucking you and praying that you'd bend me over the nearest table, but I am without a place to stay tonight…do you mind bunking up? Oh, and just in case you're curious, if you _want_ to throw me up against the wall and go at it until I can't walk, I'm all for it _darling_. "

She groaned with a pained sigh, it was so beyond foolish that she could actually see both Mal and her own Mother pointing and laughing at her expense.

But the reckless little voice in her head that had been steadily growing louder over the last few days that reminded her she was a grown woman with needs who had met a man who was obviously interested in fulfilling them. What could be more simple and natural than that? It wasn't like he was poor company. Despite his scruffiness and occasional horrendous fashion choices, Eames was articulate, intelligent, funny, undeniably _real, _and the most handsome man she had ever seen.

Well, that was a sensible enough argument to convince even the annoyingly practical side of her personality…and at the time she didn't want to think anymore on it. Suzanne took a deep breath and scrolled through her contacts, locating the number in question and pressing the "call" button. It rang for what seemed like an eternity before it picked up and his husky laugh filled the receiver.

"My goodness, darling, are you having trouble sleeping again? You really should seek help for this terrible malady- or is that why you are calling?"

She smiled at the teasing sound of his voice. "Very funny Eames, I was actually sleeping quite soundly until I was rudely interrupted by the fire department banging down my door."

"Are you alright?" He asked the concern evident.

"Oh, yeah, there's a gas main leak and apparently I have to leave my apartment for the night," She explained as she closed her eyes tight and pinched the bridge of her nose, preparing to ask him. "Do you…can I stay with you tonight? Do you have room?

There was a pause for a moment on the other end of the line, and then Suzanne swore that she could hear his full lips sliding across the mouthpiece of the phone in a naughty smirk. "Of course, love. I think a sleepover would be great fun."

"Yes, well, your address _would_ be helpful then."

"Eager little thing," He scolded. "Number 10 Rue Cauchois, fifth floor. I'll have a nightcap waiting."

:o:o:o:o

Suzanne took a cab across the city from her apartment into the old section on Montmartre. Somehow she knew he'd live here, down a narrow street, a block from the Moulin Rouge, in a refurbished 18th century building; just the right combination of intrigue and back alley seediness to make any woman swoon.

The tall oak door that led out to the street was open and she walked into the small alcove and started up the winding stairs to the fifth floor. She took her time in the dim light to appreciate the carved and curled woodwork and plaster on the walls and the smooth, aged banister railing that adorned the stairs. It really was a lovely building, full of old world charm, her mind mused that it fit very well with the character of the occupant.

After huffing up to the fifth floor, and grateful that she didn't have more than her laptop and purse to walk up, she stood at his door. It was painted an odd shade of rusted red and it seemed to stand out against the ivory plaster that surrounded it. A dramatic little bit of ominous voice in the back of her head recalled a line from Dante's _Inferno_- "All hope abandon, ye who enter in."

Suzanne laughed at herself as she reached up with her hand to knock gently on the door a couple of times; it was just a night in an apartment with a man, nothing she hadn't done before. There was no reason to get all worked up like a damn fool.

She shifted her now much heavier laptop bag on her shoulder and ran her hand through her thick hair as she waited for the door to open. Seconds passed in silence and she was beginning to wonder that she either had the wrong building or he hadn't heard her knock. But just as she was going to lift her hand up again the door suddenly swung open and in a split second she went from a college educated woman with an impeccable sense of logic to a wide-eyed simpleton who she was pretty sure was drooling out of the corner of her mouth.

Because she was pretty sure that although she'd seen most of the "wonders of the world", every single one of them paled in comparison to the sight of Eames answering his door shirtless, his black suit pants hanging low, with a tumbler of fine scotch whiskey in his hand and a seductive grin on his handsome face.

She was blatantly staring, and quite frankly she really didn't give a shit how pathetic it looked. It was an image would be seared into her mind for the rest of her life and Suzanne enjoyed cataloguing every last detail.

He was built solid, she'd felt that leaning against him at the museum, and earlier at dinner; but my GOD, the size of the muscled ridges of his shoulders, chest, and abs were just obscene. Everything was wrapped in tight toned skin kissed with a deep tan from the relentless African sun, and it was the moment that she noticed that he didn't have _a_ tattoo, he had _several_. He looked more mouth watering than the gourmet meal she'd eaten earlier, and damn if she didn't want a taste of every inch of him.

"Are you just going to haunt my door love, or are you going to come on in and make yourself at home?"

Eames' teasing laugh snapped her out of her stupor and she smiled nervously, knowing that he knew everything she was thinking at the moment. "Yes, thanks."

Suzanne walked in and heard the door shut behind her and lock with a number of quiet clicks. He gestured for her bags and in turn handed her the glass of scotch. "Feel free to have a look around, it isn't much."

She almost rolled her eyes at his obvious understatement. The room may have been constructed out of simple materials but it had a breathtaking ambiance about it. Originally this room must have served as an attic space, because it was a single room, the ceiling vaulted up ten or twelve feet to exposed beams, complete with a large skylight that let in the moon and another floor to ceiling window at the front of the space that led out to a small balcony. The floor was the original hardwood, distressed with age, and Suzanne looked around to see a galley style kitchen with newer appliances and an antique piece of butcher-block that was serving as an island and a table, and off to the back a small room that must house the toilet, because a massive claw foot tub stood behind a partial rattan divider in the far corner. There wasn't much in the way of furniture, only a small leather couch and an ottoman in front of a very old style tube television, and a multi-colored Persian rug on the floor.

But as an architect her eye instantly came to rest on the focal point of the room. A massive bed, California king perhaps, covered in a bright colored tapestry of different pillows of various sizes and shapes, seeming to call to the Kenyan culture he obviously spent so much time in. The thick down comforter and sheets were a dark cranberry color and Suzanne could tell without even touching them that they were made of the finest Egyptian cotton.

The sheer masculinity of the entire place was incredibly intimidating and she could think of nothing to do other than take a small sip of the smoky liquid in her trembling hand. The golden liquor burned pleasantly down her throat and she sighed softly out of practiced reflex. She'd never really been much of a scotch drinker, but her father loved it, and it had been a standing tradition that the two of them enjoyed a glass every Christmas Eve before bed. And even with her relatively inexperienced palate she could tell this was a good one.

Did she honestly expect anything less from Eames?

"It's really very nice, here." She spoke up finally, trying to avoid looking at the sharp grey eyes that were following her with thinly veiled interest.

"Thank you," He answered, finishing the rest of his glass with a large mouthful and pouring a little more. "It is home…for the time being."

"Not one for putting down roots?"

Eames shrugged, and for the first time since she met him a strangely calm look came across his features, relaxing them into an almost sad, boyish face, "Never have really wanted to. I've been all over, Mombasa for the past few years, I move where I feel peace. Unfortunately, that just seems to keep changing."

Suzanne smiled at his honest answer. "I see."

"What about you little orphan Annie? I don't imagine you spend your time in one place too long before getting bored and moving on."

She threw back the rest of her drink and declined his gesture for another refill before putting the glass on the table, "I don't ever think I have ever had my own 'home'. There was school, and now when I am not working I am close to my parents for their benefit. Although someday I'd like a little place I run away to."

"Swank little love nest in a cosmopolitan city?"

"More like a secluded little cottage by the sea with no one around for miles," She answered with a smile, though the expression froze the minute she looked up and caught the heat in his eyes, focused right on her face.

"Sounds amazing, love."

His voice was low and husky, and Suzanne swallowed hard and tried to ignore the blush that had raced across her face at the tone. The previous conversational banter had served as enough of a distraction to avoid the elephant in the room, but now it was stamping all around them in the silence.

"You must be tired." He said as he finished his drink and grabbed her empty glass, depositing them both in the sink before moving the bottle of scotch to one of the cabinets.

"Yeah," Suzanne nodded, "Can I use the couch, do you mind?"

Eames frowned at her request, though his eyes were glinting with a smile, "Absolutely, love. You should sleep in the bed."

"I don't have to," She protested.

"I insist." He answered walking around the table and bringing his solid, muscled body into her personal space again.

Suzanne shivered as his amazing scent filled her nose, and even though she'd always found it irresistible, now it was combined with potency from his sweat and skin that made it almost primal in its intensity.

"The wash room is to the left, everything is in there; feel free to use whatever you'd like. I have a new toothbrush or two in the cabinet."

"Thank you." She answered, turning quickly to move across the room and eager to put the buffer of a door between them.

The bathroom was as small as hers was, though not at all uncommon to the usual size in Paris. She was surprised how neat everything was, a brown wicker hamper in the corner was full of clothes and a number of huge fluffy white towels in various sizes were folded and stacked on a shelf in the corner above the toilet. Suzanne turned on the water in the sink and grabbed a washcloth to clean off her face. But before she started her curiosity got the better of her and she quietly opened the medicine cabinet. Despite the fact that she was most definitely snooping around, she reasoned he already knew she was going to if he offered the toothbrush…so it really wasn't rude. The left side was mostly empty, and she indeed found an unopened toothbrush next to his and the tube of toothpaste. There was also a bunch of q-tips, cotton balls, aloe for sunburns and a rubber duck- which had her laughing at its absurdity.

She shook her head with a smile and opened up the right side of the cabinet. In the same instant she froze and her mouth hung open…staring her in the face was a brand new, practically bulk package of condoms. One voice in her head noticed with glee that they were "magnum" sized, and the other wondered when he bought them. They were unopened, so he hadn't been sleeping with someone else, but on the other hand that meant he'd bought them recently. Were they here because he knew he'd be sleeping with _her_?

Well, he wasn't exactly _wrong_…all it would take is for her to walk out of here and for him to be standing in the buff next to his bed.

Suzanne rolled her eyes and moved on to the next few items as quickly as possible. There wasn't much, just an old fashioned razor with a porcelain jar of shaving cream and a brush, and a small, simple glass bottle with a black label. She picked it up and noticed it was cologne and immediately opened the top. When she smelled it she tried not to moan out loud at the fragrance. It was Eames in a bottle; sensual, exotic, sophisticated, and somehow dirty and insanely lustful at the same time- _Musc Ravageur._ She took a mental note that whoever made this and whatever the fuck it cost, she would be buying it and spraying it all over her bed at home.

That is unless he rubbed it off on the sheets first.

She really was losing it. Suzanne replaced the bottle, after taking another _deep_ breath, and then quickly washed her face. She took a last look at her face, sweeping back her hair and wishing that she had taken the time to run into the bathroom and grab anything that would make her look more presentable than she looked right now before she left her apartment.

It was about now that the logical side of her mind managed to speak up from underneath the cloud of delicious cologne, reminding her that she was worth any man…no matter how mysterious.

:o:o:o:o

Suzanne walked out from the bathroom to notice that the lamp light that had lit the room earlier was completely extinguished, leaving nothing but the moon that filtered into the windows to guide her. She saw Eames' shadow as he walked up to her with a sly smile.

"My turn darling, make yourself comfortable," He leaned down and placed the barest kiss of his soft lips against her cheek before walking past her and shutting the door.

She was left standing in the darkened room and suddenly felt a sense of suspended reality. The same way she had felt at the café with Dom and Mal in her dream.

_How had she gotten here?_

Suzanne thought carefully, and she could remember everything. Dinner that night, coming home, the fire department, the cab ride- and finally walking up the stairs and meeting the gorgeous man whose home she was currently standing in. Unconsciously her hand flew up to grab the charm around her neck and as she felt the familiar weight and worn places she knew that this was _real_.

She walked over to Eames' bed with confidence and moved several of the mountains of pillows to the floor before shedding her bulky sweater. It was somewhere between folding the garment and going for the elastic band on the leggings that she was wearing that she realized it- she wasn't wearing any underwear. She had originally gone to bed in nothing but the BU t-shirt that she was still wearing. A frown crossed her face when she thought about sleeping in pants. She didn't do it-ever. No matter how hot it was. She was a born and bred New Englander, and even in the coldest winter at home she never wore socks or pants- it just irked her to no end. So in the end she shed her pants and crawled underneath the soft, rich fabric.

After all she had this huge bed to herself, Eames was on the couch and her pants were right by the floor. Everything was completely under control. It was this thought that had her finally closing her eyes and burying her head amongst the pillows and blankets that were covered in that amazing smell. With a deep lungful of musk she closed her eyes and let the night finally take her.

:o:o:o:o

It was the movement on the bed that woke her.

Suzanne's green eyes snapped open and tried to quickly deduce what was going on...it didn't take long. She felt the weight of another body moving under the covers and she suddenly sat upright, waking up as if someone had dumped a bucket of cold water on her body.

He was in bed with her.

"What are you doing?" She yelled much louder than she had intended, pulling the blankets against her.

Eames rolled over casually and looked at her with a lazy smile, "Going to bed darling, just like you."

Her brain tried to comprehend his words and she couldn't do anything but breathe in and out in a huff. "I thought you were sleeping on the couch."

Even in the darkness she could see the playful glint in his grey eyes. "Wherever would you have gotten that idea, love?"

"You said I could have the bed," She exclaimed, trying to deal with the smell and the heat of his body that was growing all too close to deal with.

"And you thought that meant I was sleeping on the couch?" Eames teased in the same tone that she'd normally seen him use with Arthur, "That's very presumptuous of you, darling."

Suzanne could feel her mouth open and close again like a damn fish out of water before he spoke again. "I think we have enough room to sleep, so relax. You are in Paris, on vacation, darling. Calm down and I'll see you in the morning."

He turned over and had the huge and beautiful landscape of his back to her. Suzanne's heart kicked up when she realized that she had no idea what he was sleeping in. Did he wear boxers to bed? Boxer briefs? He definitely wasn't the type of man for tighty-whities…oh shit…was he _naked_?

She turned her back to him and pushed herself so she was on the very edge of the bed, holding her shirt over her ass with a sense of embarrassment that she didn't dare reflect on.

Really?! You are in his bed and are lying here like a damn prude, pretending like you didn't see the box of fucking evidence that he left for you to find? Suzanne could literally hear Mal pointing at her with an accusing finger and a frown on her face about her chicken-shit behavior.

She'd had piss-poor one night stands and she couldn't take advantage of_ this_?

But when he made no move at all after a few moments of silence, she began to think that maybe he was really asleep. The only problem was that she couldn't close her eyes and relax if she even tried. So here she was, laying uncomfortably tight on the edge of a downy soft bed, with enough liquor thrumming through her blood stream to drop her inhibitions but not dull the pleasure that was beginning to awaken through every single pore of her body. It would take nothing at all to roll over and toss her ratty t-shirt off her body and straddle him.

But blame it on her exhaustion, the only voice that spoke to her was the practical one, and it told her to get up and get a glass of water to deal with the scotch and vodka in her body.

Suzanne was silent as she slid back the puffy blanket and stepped out onto the cool hardwood floor, letting the difference of temperature shiver up her spine as she walked into the kitchen area. She didn't bother to see if he could see what she was doing as she noiselessly grabbed an empty glass out of the sink and placed it on the table before she looked into the refrigerator to locate a bottle of water. In fact she didn't feel anything as she stood up with the pitcher and she filled her glass. She didn't feel anything until she closed the door and she put the cool drink to her mouth- and when she finally heard him it was too late.

He was right behind her, like a solid wall of scorching hot warmth, and it was in that moment she knew the answer to her earlier question about what he wore to bed. Her breath seized in her chest, and she closed her eyes as she felt him stand behind her, solid as the marble that she'd seen in the museum.

"Is there something I can help you with, love?"

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**Yeah…I left it **_**there**_** : )**


	9. Chapter 8

**AN: _Whew_! I can say nothing to defend myself other than I had no choice, I was scared that if I didn't get this hot little bit out that I would have to run and hide!**

**So there is a plot to this story...honestly ; ), it's just important to show how uncontrollable these two are together...honestly...remember that woman from the Prologue? LOL.**

**Goes without saying that this is just straight lemon juice out of the little green container...hot, and with very naughty language, Eames is a talker...we all know this ; ).**

**Please, please leave me a little review...please? **

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_Paris, France_**  
**

_Fall 2007_

* * *

"_Is there something I can help you with, love?"_

Suzanne was shaking with an all consuming mix of anxiety and lust. She didn't want to turn around and look at him, because she knew what was waiting for her…she knew she'd be lost. So instead she took a deep breath and a long sip of water to collect her thoughts before answering him.

"I was just thirsty." Her voice was a weak, trembling whisper, and she _knew _that he was well aware of what he was doing to her.

"Mmm, I see, darling." Eames murmured as he moved closer to her, placing his mouth against her ear. She gasped outright when she suddenly felt _that _part of him, hard, eager and large, pressing against her backside through the thin fabric of her t-shirt. "It is so very important to make sure we give our body everything it needs."

Suzanne swallowed hard, having to force down the small mouthful of water that was now trapped in her throat before stepping away from him. She needed the distance. Unfortunately her escape was thwarted by the butcher-block table in front of her, and Eames right behind her.

He was relentless with the warm, overwhelming presence of his body, and Suzanne knew now that the lion had finally run down its kill and was preparing to sink its teeth in. It was actually kind of interesting to think she had managed to keep his interest so far…that this insanely masculine; beast of a man wanted _her_. It was that small triumph of self esteem that gave her the bravery to turn around and face him.

Suzanne kept her eyes riveted onto his, refusing to look down at the impressive span of flesh that gently brushed against her lower stomach. In the darkness it was tough to make out his exact expression, but she could see the glassy pools of his eyes and just the barest outline of the sinful mouth that had been haunting her from the moment she met him.

"I apologize for bumping into you; it's terribly rude of me." Eames' voice rolled off his tongue, deep and honey smooth, "But I just can't seem to stop doing it."

The puzzling statement caught her off guard for a minute before she realized what he was saying to her, and more specifically what part if himself that he was referencing.

"Oh," was all that she could manage to breathe in reply, her eyes moving down out of reflex to stare at it for the first time. Now, Suzanne wasn't a blushing virgin- she had a decent little catalogue of experience under her belt when it came to men. But it went without saying that if she had never seen anyone that looked like Eames shirtless- she had _definitely_ never seen anything like his cock before.

It was a specimen of perfect masculinity just like the rest of him. Tall, proud, thick, long and… holy shit, she was _salivating _at the thought of what it would feel like to have him bury it to the hilt, deep inside of her, with that Adonis body of his. Just the idea was enough to ignite the fire low in her belly, and her heart was instantly racing.

He just laughed to himself and leaned down to her ear again, "You're staring darling, and I'm starting to feel self conscious."

"Don't." She whispered, surprising herself with the apparent sense of awe in her voice. A wolfish smile slid across his face and Suzanne felt it against the blushing skin on her cheek.

"I've been like this since dinner," he confessed absently, making sure that his mouth was flush with her ear. "All I keep thinking about is that little taste of you. It was sweeter than candy, love and I want more. My _God_ I just want to spend the next two days with my head between those delectable thighs feasting on you like a glutton."

She moaned out loud at his words and she could literally feet a wave of hot moisture flood between her legs and dampen her thighs. Suzanne was having trouble breathing through the shivers that wracked her body again and again. "Please," She whimpered. "Please touch me...take me…I can't stand this."

Eames made no move. Instead he chuckled lowly in her ear, "Are you sure? It's very late darling. A good girl like you should be in bed for the night sound asleep, not playing with naughty boys like me."

"Please," She begged, unable to think of anything other than the unbearable swelling and twitching of her overheated flesh, her inner walls already coming to life and he hadn't even touched her. She needed to come or she was going to go mad. As if possessed by need alone, her hand began to move towards the center of her desire, her fingers itching to touch herself and let it all go.

Her green eyes began to fall closed and just as she felt the heat on her hands, his wide, rough palm encircled her wrist. His grip was gentle but firm enough to get her attention. Her eyes snapped open in surprise as he stared at her with a fiery passion in his. "Tsk, tsk, there will be none of that you dirty little girl, and here I thought you were a proper lady."

He was pushing her so far past her limits and enjoying every last bit of it. Suzanne somehow found a tiny glimmer of self control and hung onto it with everything she had, using that to anchor her back into reality. It could have been the scotch that was racing in her blood but she suddenly felt brave. No one made her beg for sex. If he wanted to fuck her, she was going to make him ask for it….oh it was time for practical Suzanne Williams to take control back.

She squared up her shoulders and licked her lips slowly, the movement catching his attention immediately. With a devilish grin of her own she leaned into him and brought her mouth so close it brushed his lips before whispering, "Do I sound like a proper lady when I come, Mr. Eames?"

His hand tightened on her wrist and the ridged expanse of his cock jumped against her belly at her sudden and brazen question. A slow, lazy smile of her own spread across her face when she realized that she had his undivided attention.

"I'm suddenly worried that you want me to go to bed because you are afraid you don't have what it takes to make me satisfied."

The needling taunt was said with just enough edge to make it bite. Suzanne felt pride that she'd managed to take control of the situation- that is until she saw the clench of his jaw and the fire in his pewter stare. Suddenly there was a shift in the air between them and the playful, rakish Eames that she'd come to know disappeared to leave an alpha male raging with pure testosterone in his place. She'd insulted him on the basest animal level and now there would be hell to pay. He shifted his weight and released her wrist, putting his hands flat on the table on either side of her body and pressing himself against fully against her.

Suzanne's eyes bulged out of her head as she felt all of him. The heat his body was throwing off was dwarfed by the broiling inferno raging behind his eyes, and when he brought his mouth up to hers she felt a small spike of fear slice through her. "I think we both know that's rubbish, love." His voice was dark, laced with a purely carnal tone. "Because if I can make you come in five minutes with my voice and one finger, imagine what I can do to you with hours and hours of time- and my _cock_."

Her mouth fell open at the vulgar word and she literally melted at the promise. She was panting like a bitch in heat and when he didn't back off something in her snapped. Her screaming, overwhelmed senses crystallized into clarity, she wanted this man from the moment she saw him. Fuck propriety and work etiquette, he was offering one night of the type of sex that defines a person for the rest of their lives…and goddamn it she was going to take him up on it. Suzanne let every bit of her polished and proper façade fall away as she reached out and grabbed him by the back of his muscular neck and pulled his face all the way down so she could finally feast on those plump pillows that she'd been fantasizing about.

Eames tensed at the movement before letting a smile slide across his face as her pretty little mouth met his with a sense of burning need that matched his own. He was a gentleman at first, allowing her to swirl and dip her tongue politely into his mouth to tangle and twist with his and letting her nibble and suck on his lips for a moment before he had decided that he'd had enough of prim, proper Miss Williams. With a growl that matched the raging surge in his unbearable hard-on he cupped her pale, graceful face in his hands and coaxed her mouth open enough so he could dive in deep. His kisses transforming from exploratory to devouring, he was going to have this sweet thing right here on his kitchen table- and then he was going to take her to bed and fuck her until she was hoarse from screaming his name.

He pulled away from her just far enough to reach down and pull the University t-shirt she was wearing up and over her head; unable to control the cheeky grin that spit his face when he got his first look at her flawless skin completely uncovered to his eyes. She was like a living Botticelli; acres of soft, subtle flesh that was curved and rounded into two of the most spectacular breasts he had ever seen and hips he couldn't wait to grab a hold of and pound away. "Fucking perfect, darling," He growled as he tangled his hands in her long, dark hair and pulled hard enough to make her head tilt back and expose the column of her throat to his hungry mouth, "Mmm, you are absolutely fucking perfect."

His hands roamed from her neck, down her shoulders, across the very side of her breasts before palming the fleshy mounds of her ass and hefting her up onto the solid table in front of him. From this height he had her completely at his mercy, and he didn't let up for one moment to let her collect herself…oh no…he was going to shatter those walls. After one night with him, she'd never be buttoned up again. Eames pulled her body to the very edge of the surface before deftly crouching down and placing the same sort of searching, deep kiss on the delectably soaking wet flesh in front of his face.

She shrieked the moment he touched her, and her hand instantly flew to fist tightly in his gelled hair, yanking him hard against her hot little center. _Ah, so she wanted to be in control…not yet_, he mused wickedly. Eames jerked his head back and shook out of her grip, wincing as he was quite sure that more than a few hairs ended up being left behind in her clenched fist. He stared straight ahead at her perfectly maintained pussy and had to laugh that her fastidious attention to detail applied here as well. It was as beautiful as the rest of her, and judging by the swollen state of everything she was just about primed to explode already. Even in the near darkness he could see how slick and wet she was, the moisture reflecting in the low light like shimmering diamonds, and while he wanted nothing more than to bury his tongue in that inviting warmth and drink her down when she came…there was a lesson that she needed to be taught. You don't behave like a naughty girl and taunt a man unless you are prepared to deal with the punishment.

He allowed himself one quick flick of his tongue against the hardening little nub at the top of her dripping sex, loving the way she jerked and cried out again; before standing back up and trailing the flat of his tongue in a straight line from her clit to her mouth where he took her lips again in another gnashing, hard kiss. He pulled away just as she was wrapping her legs around his waist, and canting her hips to find friction against his skin. And while the thought of her coating his cock in all that lovely nectar was more appealing than he could convey- first things first.

Eames grabbed hold of her legs, right under her knees and held them wide open and away from his body, smiling as she tried to find purchase on the counter top and the confusion that was written all over her flushed face. "Now my little _Annie_," He mused, the new pet name sliding off his tongue easily, "Here's the moment that you realize that you've made a huge mistake making that little insinuation earlier and the lesson you need to learn."

She frowned and tried to move away, but it was hopeless- he had her legs and all the leverage he needed. "What the _fuck_ are you talking about?" She snapped angrily.

It was just what he wanted to hear- unrestrained, pure, passion- and he grinned wickedly, "I'm talking about making you apologize and ask nicely for this." The little thrust of his hips to emphasize his manhood wasn't exactly necessary, but it got the point across. Her wide green eyes were blown open and almost completely dilated with her desire for it and he watched her swallow hard before a very quiet whisper fell from her lips.

"Please."

"A little louder darling, I didn't hear that."

"Please," She repeated, the frown falling away and a mischievous little smile replacing it. "Please, Mr. Eames, will you make me come so hard I can't breathe with that beautiful bit of hard flesh that seems so eager to fuck me."

Eames laughed with a genuine smile at her salacious little answer, and shook his head for a moment before looking at her face smiling back at him. Damn, she was bloody perfect. He locked his eyes with hers as he pulled her slowly towards him, wrapping one leg high around his back so he could free his hand up to take his now aching erection in his hand and finally rub it through the blessed wet heat and push into her in one fast thrust. He'd had many women in his life, but nothing had ever felt like this. She was unbearably hot, wet and tight- he could feel everything inside her, every last ridge and that sweet spongy little spot scraped against him like a glove. A powerful urge to move took hold of his body and he withdrew slowly before slamming home again, and then something incredible happened.

He watched in shock when her body arced back into a graceful curve, her full, pale, breasts almost glowing in the darkness thrusting out at him as she threw her head back and screamed out her climax. The shuddering waves that danced up and down his hard flesh almost did him in and his mouth fell open at the sight of her.

Suzanne wailed out as the moment he slid into her, all of the sexual tension from their earlier teasing came undone in a glorious wave of bliss. She came hard enough to roll her eyes back in her head and make her arms give out. Her body fell back on the table in a boneless heap and she bit her lip as she came down and could still feel him, huge and hard, pulsing inside her. There was still a knot of _something _wound tight inside her and she knew that if he kept it up she was going to go again. Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to tell him, too breathless for words, but like anything she'd thought for the entire evening- he _knew_.

His warm hands threw her long legs over his shoulders and reached underneath her body to grab her backside and lift her hips off the table. Suzanne moaned loudly at the sight of the tanned, muscled and tattooed man between her legs before he began a punishing rhythm, pumping in and out of her fast and hard. It was pleasure laced with a sharp edge of pain each time he bottomed out against the sensitive flesh of her cervix, and she was powerless to do anything other than close her eyes, fist her hands in her hair and scream. Eames' voice broke through the passion, rough with teasing lust. "I have neighbors in the building, love," he grunted as he somehow increased his tempo more.

"I don't give a fucking shit," Suzanne gasped as he started to alternate the depth of his strokes, "just don't stop."

"As you wish," he laughed, hitting her harder.

Everything in her body suddenly felt like it receded away and the only thing she could feel was the tunnel of skin that he was sheathed in, and then it was like a bomb detonated inside her, destroying _everything_ in its wake. Her legs shook around his scorching hot shoulders and a flood of wetness poured out from deep inside of her running onto them both. Her entire spine seized into bow and she wailed his name, praising him with the sort of veneration and accolades she'd never live down in the morning. _Oh yes, Eames, yes, God you are _unreal_, you are a fucking king, never stop, God YES!_

Suzanne was shaking like a leaf as he wrapped her legs around his waist and hauled her off the table into his arms. They were still connected and he was breathing deep, Suzanne was somehow able to focus enough to sweep her sweat-slicked hair out of her face and stare at his. It was a study of concentration and she was shocked to think that she'd never seen him act this serious about anything. His eyes met hers and he spoke in a breathless huff, "Bloody fucking hell woman, I want to see that again and again."

She let her tongue slide out and swipe across his lips in a languid swipe, "Then take me to bed and have at it- _darling_."

:o:o:o:o

It was a request she was beginning to regret in the most agonizingly blissful way possible.

Eames had walked them over to the bed and tossed her onto the mattress with a saucy chuckle, and before Suzanne could right herself in the downy soft blankets he was on her, pinning open her legs and devouring her with his mouth. He made good on his earlier promise to feast on her, his tongue, teeth and amazing lips sent her rocketing off twice more before she begged him with tears in her eyes to _please, please, stop_ and let her come down. Her chest was stained with blotches of red flesh from an almost permanent blush and though she wanted to have the energy to return the favor to him, she just couldn't move enough to get on her knees to go down on him.

She was still gasping for air when he crawled between her useless legs and leaned over her with a predatory smile, "You are going to give me one more, love. How do you want it?"

"I can't." Suzanne answered her eyes wide with something akin to terror.

He shook his head and reached down to begin stroking his still rock hard erection, almost menacingly. "Oh, you can, I promise you." When she didn't reply he backed off for a moment and grabbed a bunch of the discarded pillows before piling them up and grabbing her with a swift flip, positioning her on her stomach with her ass high in the air.

"Beautiful," Eames mumbled as he spread her legs and settled behind her, sliding into her tired, aching core with a slow push. "Let me hear it again, hmm- please, love."

He must have been as close to the end of his wits as she was because it wasn't long before his slow, measured thrusts began to speed up to a frantic pace. Suzanne could hear him growling and groaning like an animal behind her and when she felt the warmth of his tongue sliding down the length of her spine she amazingly felt it coiling again deep inside of her.

"Harder!" She gasped at the sensation and opened her legs wider to take him deeper still while her fingers managed to wiggle underneath their moving forms to touch herself in synch with his brutal pace.

Eames bit his lip at the sight, "You really are talented with those hands you naughty girl."

It was the sound of his velvet voice that finally broke her. She came in a long, low, gasping wave, sobbing with relief as she felt him bear down over her back and barrel into her with a roar, flooding her with his release for what seemed like an eternity before pulling out and collapsing beside her.

He was breathing huge, deep breaths as he reached over to pull her limp, exhausted body onto the hard wall of his chest. With a tender kiss he swiped her long hair out of her face and held her in his arms unable to hear anything other than the roaring of his heartbeat in his ears. After a moment he managed to get them covered in the comforter before he looked down at her to tease her about the noise she made, but her pretty green eyes were already closed and she was fast asleep. Eames laughed to himself and kissed her forehead again, as his hand wound off the bed to grab his pants and fish into the pocket for a smooth, clay circle that he slid through his fingers once before he closed his own eyes and drifted off.

* * *

**I am blaming this on the heatwave...**


	10. Chapter 9

**AN: And here we are the morning after...a little breakfast with Eames, anyone?**

**As usual, there is a little tart treat in here... :) It is these two after all ; ).**

**Enjoy and please read and review! Come on!**

* * *

_Paris, France  
_

_Fall 2007_

* * *

Suzanne came to hours later.

She stretched languidly and buried her face into the soft pillow beneath her head, breathing deep and releasing it with a sigh. It took a moment for her completely satisfied brain to register the incredible scent of _Musc Ravageur_ and sex that clung to the sheets covering her- and that realization had her snapping instantly awake and sitting up in the bed. Everything suddenly came back to her in a rush of tingling memories that awakened her pleasantly sore flesh once again.

She was in Eames' loft with the sun streaming down on her from the skylight above, and she was still naked- in his bed. The sex had been _unreal_, just this side of soul destroying…and for a moment she had the nagging little thought that there would never ever be someone that could match him. She'd feel the same way about sex without him that she felt about drinking sparkling wine outside of France…it was good, but it wasn't _Champagne_.

With a sigh she brushed the thick curtain of tangled hair out of her face and looked around to notice that she was alone in bed. But before she could think, or wonder, where he had gotten off to; the most incredible smell of fresh brewed coffee, eggs…and was that bacon or ham?…wafted into her nose. Her empty stomach growled loudly at the thought of breakfast, after the marathon workout- she could definitely use the fuel.

Her eyes went to the kitchen and sure enough Eames was standing over the stove maneuvering a cast iron skillet with ease while an assortment of things littered the table behind him. Suzanne bit her lip at the thought that after what had happened _on_ that particular piece of furniture last night, she wasn't sure that she could ever look at it the same way again. A small laugh managed to squeak out when she noticed he was wearing a ghastly looking bright red and blue plaid robe that looked like it belonged in the same closet as the pink polyester shirt he'd been wearing the other day. But when her eager eyes began to map the way the thin fabric clung to the perfectly rounded and solid muscle of his rear end she honestly realized she could give a shit what this man wore. She'd seen every inch of his body- and if that masterpiece was underneath ratty, filthy rags, it would be sexier than anyone else in a Seville Row, bespoke suit.

He turned around to see her finally awake and a grin slid across his handsome face, "And good morning to you, you ravishing, stunning creature. I trust you slept well?"

"Like the dead," She yawned, an answering smile on her face. "I love this bed, it's magnificent."

Eames chuckled as he poured out a cup of coffee from and old fashioned French press and looked back up at her. "Please feel free to sleep in said, magnificent bed for as long as you'd like, darling. Would you care for a cup of coffee?"

"Oh, please, yes," she answered, "cream and two sugars."

He nodded and fixed her drink with cream from a small porcelain pitcher and a matching bowl of sugar before walking over. He gently put the cup and saucer down on the round bedside table and sat down right next to her, reaching out to weave his fingers into her hair and grab the base of her skull, pulling her into a slow, deep kiss. His warm tongue lazily tangled with hers, and she marveled at the way his plump lips seemed to almost devour hers with little effort. He tasted like good, strong coffee and as he pulled away with a smirk she couldn't help but lick her lips in appreciation.

"I thought a good British boy like you would be a tea drinker." She teased as his rough fingers gently stroked her neck, and she had to suppress the urge to literally purr like a kitten under his attention.

Eames laughed for a moment before replying. "Astute observation, and for the record there is nothing I enjoy more than a cup of breakfast tea with milk and far too much sugar, but after living in Africa for so long I've become rather accustomed to coffee." He stood up and stared down at her with a cheeky smile before he walked back to the kitchen, "Besides, I know that you Americans are just useless without it in the morning, so I figured that I would curb my own aching desire to fulfill your needs, love."

"So kind of you, good sir," Suzanne playfully fawned with a bat of her eyelashes, "however will I repay this kindness?"

He began to lay out two plates of food and didn't stop in the least at his task when he answered with a saucy grin, "Mmm, I can't imagine what you'd look like on your knees in front of me, darling...something tells me I wouldn't walk right for days afterwards."

The lust ignited in her again like the pilot light of a gas stove puffing to life and she could to nothing but shiver at the thought of doing that to him. An incredibly naughty little fantasy about red lipstick and a public place popped into her mind, and Suzanne bit her lip as she picked up the perfectly made coffee and took a sip- it was delicious_, like everything about him_.

What was her vacation coming to? She'd gone from doing nothing for eight months, to working on a fascinating project, to possibly having the sort of passionate love affair that they wrote cheesy erotic novels about.

She got out of bed and scanned the room for her discarded t-shirt. A moment later, anticipating her needs, Eames quickly stepped around the breakfast island to poke his head into a closet and tossed her another awful plaid robe. "Even though I am loathe to cover that Botticelli masterpiece that is your body, the weather is unseasonably warm this morning and I rather hoped you'd have breakfast on the balcony with me."

"Oh," Suzanne answered as she slipped on the worn, soft fabric that smelled exactly like him. "That sounds amazing."

He nodded and stacked the two heaping full plates on a tray before piling on utensils and the coffee supplies. "Before I forget, your phone has been chirping all morning, you busy little bee. I wanted to answer and tell them all that you are mine until Monday morning, but I decided against it." Eames hefted the tray and moved towards the door to go outside as she laughed and walked over to her bag to fish out her Blackberry.

"Be quick, love you don't want cold eggs."

:o:o:o:o

Suzanne stared at the screen of the phone and first noticed it was already ten in the morning, and that she had five missed calls and five messages.

After scrolling through the call log she had to laugh. Two were from Mal, two were from Mal's father, and another one was from a US based phone number that she didn't recognize. Her brows furrowed as she listed to her messages:

'_Ello, Suzanne? It's Stephen Miles, I just got a call from the fire brigade saying they had to throw you out for the night 'cause of a gas main problem. I hope you are alright with lodgings, please call me if you need anything. _

_Suzanne, my father just called me and I wanted to make sure that you are safe. If you want I can have Dom come pick you up, we have plenty of room. Call me._

_Did you go out to dinner with _Eames? _You little hussy tramp, you are at his place right now aren't you?! I will call you tomorrow- you have to tell me _everything_!_

_Hello? Suzanne? It's Arthur. I just talked to Dom and he said that you might need a place to stay tonight…umm…if you need anything I have a bed. A guest bed…anyway, call me if you need help. Goodbye…have a pleasant night._

_Suzanne, Stephen Miles again, got a phone call this morning around seven, you are all set to go back in. If you need anything call Marie or I. Enjoy the day._

Suzanne deleted her messages and then started laughing out loud. Apparently everyone in the world had been privy to her evening and she could actually see the chain of events as they unfolded. Professor Miles got a call from the fire department, he called Mal, who blabbed to Dom, who must have called Arthur and learned of her prior dinner arrangement with Eames…it was actually comical. Worst of all was the fact that even if she _could_ have managed to walk into the warehouse on Monday morning and contain the "I just fucked him" look that would be on her face, it was going to be impossible now with everyone knowing her business.

But before she could ruminate on it anymore her stomach loudly growled and she remembered that she had a homemade breakfast and a gorgeous man waiting outside for her. Without another thought Suzanne flipped her ringer to "vibrate" and tossed her phone back in her bag before grabbing her coffee and joining Eames on the balcony.

:o:o:o:o

The sun was shining and he was right about the warm day. It was a perfect sixty degrees out and that meant they were in for a glorious day in the city. Suzanne stepped out on the small terrace and saw Eames sitting down at a charming white wrought iron table, engrossed in his meal and a copy of a several newspapers.

"Everything alright?"

"Oh, yeah, just a few messages from Mal and her father making sure I was okay after the fire department called him last night. And another that said I guess they fixed everything around seven this morning." Suzanne answered. She sat down across from him and the plate he'd set out neatly for her before leaning over and taking a deep breath of the incredible meal. It was an impressive pile of fluffy scrambled eggs, sausage, something that looked like ham or Canadian bacon, cooked mushrooms, fried hash browns, a thick slice of fresh tomato and a huge piece of toasted baguette.

"It's the best English breakfast I could make in France," Eames spoke up happily from behind a copy of the _London Financial Times._ "I hope you enjoy."

Suzanne gave nothing but a contented moan as she tried to shovel down the food as lady-like as she possibly could at the most breakneck pace she could manage. Everything was incredible, and when she was able to get her screaming hunger under control she let her eyes look off to the side to see the city spread out before them. From the height she was able to see down to the basilica and down on the old section of buildings that served as the center of the bohemian revolution over a century ago. It was rather fitting that she was here with a man that probably would have been quite at home drinking absinthe and musing on the importance of freedom, beauty and love.

"If you can do me one favor, love." Eames drawled as he folded up the newspaper and placed it on the table fixing her with another of his smoldering stares, "Please don't muffle those little moans when we are alone, it's like a glorious aphrodisiac first thing in the morning."

Suzanne stopped mid-mouthful to notice that he had reclined in his chair and that there was a quite prominent tenting of his robe displayed to her face. Last night she'd been too tired and a bit too buzzed to go more than the one round with him…but it looked like he was more than ready to pick up where they left off. Her wide-eyes traveled up to meet his amused expression and she could do nothing but nod and squeeze her crossed thighs together to relieve a bit of the building pressure so she could finish her meal in peace.

"Of course," She answered as she had her last few bites, finding a level head as the caffeine from the coffee woke up her more practical mind. "Is that all we are going to do today, Mr. Eames? It would be such a shame to waste such a beautiful day in Paris _indoors_."

Suzanne loved the way he bit his lip and stared back at her with that devilish look. "Come now, where is your imagination, darling? I can think of nothing more wonderful than strolling through this city with you making love as we go- whenever and wherever the mood strikes."

Just that phrase was enough to make her blush. It was fine to say, "sex" or even something as vulgar as "fucking", but somehow to hear him refer to it as "making love" made her feel strange. It was probably nothing more than a turn of phrase that sounded good to his ears, but she couldn't stop herself from wondering what they had started last night. There was only an finite amount of time for the job, maybe a week more, and then sure she had a few months off, but she'd be off to Moscow after that…and she wasn't sure what the hell he did for a living in Mombasa, but it was safe to say he wouldn't be sticking around.

"Stop thinking about it," Eames whispered as he grabbed her hand and gently coaxed her out of her chair, around the table, and finally pulled her to straddle his lap in the narrow metal chair. She shifted until she was comfortable on his muscular thighs, enjoying the feel of the rock hard erection that was almost reaching out to touch her. His hands wandered to the tie on her robe and slid the knot out easily. A smile spread across his face as he opened up the fabric and he was left staring at the pale expanse of her full breasts, the perfectly rounded pink tips of her nipples hardening to stiff peaks in the cool morning air.

"There should be nothing at all on your mind but what we are doing right now." He murmured softly before grabbing the bare skin of her waist to help bring the enticing flesh to his scruffy face and latch on with an eager kiss. Suzanne gasped in pleasure as he alternated his attentions between licks, nips and finally suckling hard on the rosy little bud in the center of each one. "Darling, honestly, I need to have your body carved in marble so I have something to stare at every minute of every day; I've never seen anything like it in my life." His words were a lusty, low growl and he finally pulled back from her breasts to untie his own robe and open it up to expose himself to her.

"Someone could see us," She whispered, trying lamely to protest what he was doing, to say that she didn't want this. But all it took was one look at his tanned, tattooed and muscled chest, and the thick equally bronzed cock that was proudly standing for her to make her throw it all to the wind. Instead she shrugged the robe off her shoulders the rest of the way and grabbed the back of his head to rise up on her knees and part her legs as best she could to take him in. Normally she would have been embarrassed to be dripping wet with so little effort, but as Eames eagerly rubbed the blunt tip of himself back and forth down her slick slit she was definitely pleased.

Her flesh was still a bit sore from his relentless strength last night; but he made sure to ease it in with slow, gentle jerks. She bobbed up and down in a fluid motion until she managed to take him all the way in, her mouth falling open at the almost unbearable feeling of _fullness_ that threatened to stretch her apart. Suzanne tried to rock her hips in a slow ride, but the narrowness of the chair was making it a bit difficult. After a few minutes of frustrating wiggling she was ready to give up. "I can't move," She huffed angrily.

Eames suddenly sat up, changing the angle that he was penetrating her and sending a jolt of intensity through her body. His hands slid down to palm her ass tightly before lifting her up and slowly sliding her back down his length in a perfect impaling motion. "How's that, love?" He purred as he did it again, this time a bit faster.

"So good," She moaned, "Mmm, you feel so _fucking_ good."

He laughed darkly and picked up the pace, making sure to brush against just the right places inside to have her soaking him and tightening around his hardness, while still minding the fact that he'd pounded her hard enough last night that she was probably a little tender.

Suzanne was moaning loudly again as her head fell back with the rhythm of his hips, letting her long hair cascade back in a curtain and arch her breasts to his mouth. What he was doing felt insanely good but she needed something else, her nipples were over stimulated from his earlier attention and now with the absence of the tugging pressure it was starting to distract from the perfect friction on everything below her waist. She shook her chest slowly to waggle them in front of his face, hoping that he would take this hint, when she felt nothing she pulled her head up to stare down at him.

He was looking right at her; the mischievous glint in his eyes caught her attention. "Yes, love?"

So he was back to making her beg for things again. Well that had been immensely pleasing last night, but it wasn't exactly something she was going to indulge him so soon again. Suzanne arched an eyebrow as she let go of his shoulders and let her own hands trail from her collar bone to grab both of her breasts and bring them to his face. Her green eyes were focused and demanding as she clenched down on her internal muscles, ratcheting up her own plateau and making him grunt in surprise.

"I'm not asking, _darling_, I'm telling you."

Eames eyes flashed a dark grey at her authoritative tone before he leaned in to take the flesh offered to him like a meal, sucking on it intensely enough to hollow his cheeks with the pressure.

It was just what she needed.

Suzanne threw her head back in bliss as she felt her pelvis begin to tighten and coil. "Yes! That's it!" She began to mumble and moan incoherently as he redoubled his efforts both between her thighs and against her chest. It wasn't another moment before she burst around him, sighing and moaning as her insides fluttered and rippled against him like a tightening fist.

"Fuck," He moaned lowly against her breast as the unrelenting sheath of her inner walls milked him more than he could take. Eames' fingers dug into the soft skin of her hips almost painfully tight as he pushed into her as deep as he could go before releasing in a long growl.

They stayed like that for a pause as their heart rate and heaving breaths came under control. Finally Suzanne sighed and reached down to gently cup his face in her hands and kiss him deeply, her tongue tasting his with a polite swipe before pulling away with a half grin. "That was the _second_ meal in a row you've made me lose it, I think I'm getting spoiled."

"I couldn't imagine a better woman to lavish such meals on," He replied as he kissed her again. "Makes me wonder what we should do for afternoon tea."

Suzanne chuckled at his answer and managed to fix her robe and stand up on wobbly knees before making her way back to her own chair. He stretched lazily when she got off of him, not bothering to cover himself as he basked in the sun completely naked. A wry thought made her notice that his current behavior was probably the reason that he didn't seem to have any tan lines. Did he just bask like a naked jungle cat when he wasn't in public? It was definitely something she could get used to, despite her pathologically ghost pale skin.

"So," She finally spoke up, "I was thinking that I should go home, shower and change. Maybe you can meet me at my place in an hour or two so we can take that city tour?"

Eames breathed a deep sigh as he put his hands behind his head, closing his eyes with a smile. "Sounds good love, then we can come back here and drop off that change of clothes you are going to bring for tomorrow and Monday."

"Oh, really," She answered with a smile. "Are you sure I want to sleep here again?"

One eye opened and stared at her with a playful gaze. "I consider myself a gambling man, and that isn't even odds enough to make a bet. Now if you want to make a wager on how many times we'll enjoy each other before walking into that warehouse, I'm all for it. I personally see it somewhere between fifteen and twenty depending on how much you insist on sleeping."

She was speechless. Suzanne could do nothing but laugh and blush furiously at the idea he presented. With a shake of her head she stood up and gathered their plates to go inside and get changed. Before she walked into the door she leaned down to whisper in his ear, making sure to put her lips right up against it the same way he had so effectively done to her in the past. "You know if I'm sleeping you could always help yourself to a little snack to tide yourself over."

She could see his entire exposed body tremble at the words, and she swore that magnificent, well-spent cock of his even twitched in appreciation. As she turned she heard him groan and answer her, "Make that thirty, love. I'll have you walking on rubber legs by Monday."

* * *

**Ah yes...and now off to explore the city...**


	11. Chapter 10

**AN: And on Monday we have part one of a lovely weekend in Paris…as a good friend of mine is fond of saying…there are sightings of scaly fire breathing creatures in here amidst the romance and lemonade ; ).**

**Please, I am **_**loving**_** the traffic…leave a review…I'll love you for it!**

**Sending this out early… teeny edits may come later…mwah!**

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_Paris, France_

_Fall 2007_

* * *

Her phone had been ringing non-stop for the entire half-hour she was taking a shower. For a moment she was actually worried that something was wrong with her parents, so she finished up her meticulous shaving routine and jumped out. Suzanne toweled off quickly and threw her damp hair into her large rollers before running out of the bathroom and looking at her missed calls- 25 from Mal.

_Seriously woman? _She mused with a laugh as she checked the time; Eames would be over in another forty-five minutes, so she scrolled through the numbers and dialed her friend. Mal answered after only a ring or two.

"Where have you been?!"

Suzanne rolled her eyes as she walked to her dresser to fish out the sexiest, most delicately feminine lace bra and matching pair of panties that she owned. They were a very pale baby blue that matched a soft, fitted, cashmere v-neck sweater that she planned on wearing with a gauzy knee length black at white patterned skirt. It was reserved, but still enticing enough to keep the eye of the insanely delicious Brit.

"Hellooo?" Mal sang into the receiver, "Are you drugged or something?"

"No." Suzanne answered as she sat down on her bed and began to lotion up her legs with her favorite lavender smell, "I am just fine. In fact, I am a little worried that you are turning into some sort of psycho-stalker after calling my phone all morning." She was teasing her, and her friend recognized the sarcasm and her subtle redirection immediately.

"No, I am a good friend." She replied. "I called all morning because I was afraid that you were taken to dinner by that gorgeous man and then fucked until you were unconscious or something like that."

Suzanne laughed out loud at the outlandish comment, and then realized that it actually wasn't far from the truth. "And now you know that I have regained consciousness and am just fine." An honest to goodness ear-piercing squeal rang through the phone loud enough to make her pull it away, and she was laughing at her friend's uninhibited excitement.

"Tell me _everything_! Where did he take you to eat?"

"Le Meurice," Suzanne answered, hating the dreamy tone in her voice.

"And now I know why you gave it up. My God that had to be good food." Mal sighed.

"It was amazing," She admitted. "But I'll have you know that he brought me home like a gentleman and went home." She studiously forgot to mention the orgasm he'd given her at the table after dessert. "I actually called him after the whole fire department decided to barge in, wake me up and toss me out on the street. I didn't want to bother you and Dom."

"First off it's never a bother no matter where in the world I am, but I can see why you called Eames. So I take it being at his apartment was too much for you to control yourself?"

"Have ya seen it?" Suzanne scoffed with a laugh.

"Nooo," Mal laughed. "So you need to explain every last detail about it to me, and that includes what he obviously did to you more than once."

"Come on, girl you are married to a good-looking man, I don't need to tell you what we got up to all over the place."

Mal groaned at her half-admission. "Yes, my husband _is_ handsome and we used to go at it like rabbits. We also have two small children now, and we have been left trying to have sex in between naps and ONE night a year in a hotel on our anniversary when I can actually moan out loud, and that is another two weeks away. So _excuse_ me if I want to live vicariously through you."

Suzanne laughed at her friend's exasperated declaration and smiled, "Well I guess we'll have to get together soon so I can go over details."

"I'm free for lunch." Mal offered.

"Oh, um, I'm not." Suzanne answered, unable to keep the smile for her voice. "We're taking a walk through the city this afternoon and I think I am spending the rest of the weekend at his place."

"Ugh, I am jealous. Please,_ please_ enjoy that man for me." Mal sighed wistfully. "I have a play date in the park with the little ones and later this afternoon Dom and I plan to do a little work with the PASIV. He read something about being able to do multiple levels in dreams and he wants to see what we can do together."

"Like a dream within a dream?" Suzanne asked with a frown. "Be careful with that shit, Mal. It sounds dangerous and I don't want you to get hurt."

"I'll be fine, Suzanne." She assured her, "Dom knows what he is doing. I'll see you on Monday, and we'll do lunch together; that is if I can pry you away from your Englishman lover long enough for a meal."

"Very funny, have a good weekend, hun." Suzanne said with a laugh.

"You too…_darling_, don't do anything I wouldn't do." Mal playfully needled before laughing brightly and hanging up the phone.

Suzanne sat for a moment on her bed as an uncomfortable feeling of cold dread suddenly crept up her spine, leaving chills in its wake. She couldn't place where it came from, or why it took hold of her mind with such power, but there was no mistaking it. But for the first time in her life she decided not to analyze the feeling and any implications it might have created, instead she took a deep breath and let it fall away. There was no need to be paranoid, and Eames would be here in another few moments and she wanted to be ready for an amazing afternoon in a gorgeous city.

:o:o:o:o

She stood in the mirror and fluffed her long now wavy hair with a smile, lining her eyes with just a simple black line to emphasize the green color and her long lashes. She finished with a very light pink on her lips and a bit of glossy shine; for a second she thought about a dramatic red, but then decided against it. She hoped to be kissing those perfect lips of his so much that it would be too much of a mess to bother with. But there was always later on…and that interesting little fantasy of taking him in her mouth that was too good to be forgotten about. So she made sure to throw the tube of lipstick into her little travel bag. After rubbing just a little more lotion on her legs, she slid on her black flats and pulled out her overnight duffle to start packing when a playful knock rapped against her door. Suzanne tried to stop the huge smile that split her face and the uncontrollable racing of her heart when she knew that it was Eames.

She walked to the door to meet him, opening it up and staring in disbelief at the ridiculous way that he made another one of the '70's best outfits look sexy as hell. It was a plain dark grey suit coat and pants that, though outdated, could possibly have gone unnoticed if it wasn't for the mustard yellow and blue paisley polyester button up shirt underneath. But anything about the monstrosity of the shirt was immediately forgotten when she saw that he'd shaved his face. The rugged look that she'd come to appreciate was gone, and in its place was a new level of masculinity. If it was even possible his lips were even more plump and soft looking, and she could smell the citrus tang of whatever he'd used on his face as it mixed with the ever present musk perfection that followed him everywhere.

Her body responded to him instantly, as if out of her conscious control her heart pounded and her core heated, priming her on a purely animal level to submit to the alpha male in front of her. His sharp grey eyes did not miss the gentle incline of her eyebrow as she took him in calmly; trying desperately to disguise the lust she knew he saw pooled in her darkening green eyes.

"The apparel oft proclaims the man, and they in France of the best rank and station are of a most select and generous chief in that." Eames flawlessly quoted Hamlet with a wagging brow as he leaned in and took her lips in a swift, deep kiss.

Suzanne breathed a sigh of pure bliss as she enjoyed the increasingly familiar pressure of his lips, and savoring the new feeling of smooth skin on her face. She had to bite down hard on her cheek when he pulled away to concentrate, as her mind quickly imagined that smooth flesh between her legs…all over her soaking wet center. The little sting of pain was enough to allow her hardwired common sense to wake up again.

"I am quite sure that Polonius would have advised against that shirt, Mr. Eames."

"Perhaps," He whispered leaning to kiss her again, this time wrapping an arm around her trim waist and threading another into the luxurious black hair to hold her head to his mouth. He groaned as he tasted her thoroughly, letting his lips, tongue and teeth take them both into a state of arousal that was threatening to derail the well intentioned afternoon plans. With a great deal of effort Eames pulled away, his voice breathless with building lust, "Let's get you packed and out of here, or I have a feeling that rickety kitchen table is going to be done for, darling."

"Just give me a minute." She panted, as consumed as he was.

:o:o:o:o

Eames couldn't help but stare at his companion as they walked down the shaded path around the Notre Dame Cathedral's south side. Suzanne was calmly yet passionately discussing the various flying buttresses, transepts and the unbelievable rose windows of a building that was flawlessly constructed without the aid of modern software. Her insight and comments were articulate, intelligent and truly fascinating- but none of it was registering at all in his mind. The only thing he could do is remember the way she looked, sounded and felt when he was buried inside her last night, and again this morning- perfection.

She was the best he'd ever had, _by far_, and that was saying something with his rather checkered past. But there was a nagging feeling that was beginning to worm underneath his normally unflappable and well guarded exterior; it wasn't just her incredible lush curves and her little moans that had caught his attention, it was the way she would knowingly submit to him one moment and openly dominate him the next. So it wasn't just the sex…it was _her_. He was beyond smitten with the beautiful woman beside him, and that was something he wasn't quite sure how to deal with at all.

His life wasn't particularly conducive to a relationship of any sort, and not only because of his often transient behavior where his residence was concerned. He was, for lack of a better word, a thief, and had been one for quite a while. He made money fencing everything from property to information, and lately he'd begun a rather lucrative practice with extraction and extortion in the dream world. It wasn't exactly the type of life he could see the well educated software engineer who had weekly phone calls with Mom and Dad enjoying- no matter how naughty and imaginative she was on the inside.

So where exactly did that leave them? He wasn't quite sure he could let Suzanne Williams and her gorgeous fire just walk out of his life in a week.

"Could you _imagine_ conceiving something so magnificent, that defined everything about you, and it not coming to fruition for two hundred years?" Her voice cut through his musings and he smiled at her tone watching as she waved her arms in an expressive gesture.

"No, darling I am far too impatient for that." He mused honestly as he let an arm fall behind her back to draw her close so he could rest a hand on her hip and lean over to put his mouth against the shell of her ear. "I can barely wait six hours to have something I want with every part of my body."

Eames smiled as she shivered against him before turning to look at him with that shy grin and enticing little stare that he adored. At that moment there was nothing that seemed more natural to him than to lean over and steal a kiss from her sweet little pink mouth.

:o:o:o:o

It was a beyond beautiful day to walk around in one of the most romantic city in the world, and it seemed to take hold of her in an odd way. Suzanne found herself still feeling an incredible sense of all consuming lust in his presence, but there was something else that was changing the way her heart beat; a strange weight on her chest that was strong and heavy, but not unpleasant. She wanted to chalk it up to the scenery, or the fact that they had been living in this little bubble of their own little world for the past couple of days, because it couldn't be anything else- right? People didn't fall in love this fast, the real world didn't work that way. That sort of foolishness was relegated to movies and books, meant for girls who had no direction in life.

But as she breathed in deeply and appreciated the way that her chest tightened just a bit more, she really began to wonder if she wasn't a foolish girl falling in love in Paris with a man that she knew nothing about. Not even his name.

She shook her head quickly and tried to focus on reality. "So, Mr. Eames, tell me something about yourself that I don't already know."

The warm hand resting on her hip squeezed her gently as he looked down at her with a serious look in his grey eyes, "I detest peas."

Suzanne laughed at his silly answer and shook her head, "Alright, something else."

He thought for a moment and answered, "I am deathly afraid of mice."

"So I'll avoid creamed peas at Disneyworld." She said dryly. "Tell me something about _you, _your life, where you come from. You seem to know everything about me and I know nothing about you."

"Ah, darling, it's boring, truly." Eames sighed staring off absently at the river that was winding past them, sparkling in the clear afternoon sun. "It is every sad, cliché story of a young English boy with more desire than means who finds a way to get on in the world. Heathcliff, James Bond, Harry Potter, take your pick. I prefer to keep the past behind me, especially when the present is so much more pleasing to experience."

Suzanne was silent for a moment as she registered the amazing deflection in his defensive tone, he'd said so little in that sentence, but still managed to tell her everything she wanted to know. He was an enigma wrapped up in a riddle; she could probably spend a great deal of time studying and analyzing him and still not manage to figure him out. But when she kissed him, and when he was inside her, she felt like she knew all his secrets. Maybe that was enough.

"Alright then," she used his own skill at changing subject to pull him back in. "Here's a question for you. Did you put that pack of condoms in your medicine cabinet on purpose to freak me out, because I noticed that you weren't too keen on using them?"

He made a show of taking a deep breath and bringing his hand up to his mouth in shock, "_Darling_, were you _snooping_ through my personal things, in my _home_?"

"When one has a bulk pack of magnums handy, it makes a girl curious."

Eames stopped walking and pulled her gently behind a tall tree, hiding them from the prying eyes of the public that was milling all about. He backed her up against the rough bark of the oak and stepped in so he was flush with her body, taking her face in his hands and tilting it up so she could see nothing but his face. Suzanne trembled as he brought his lips down until they were brushing hers, but left his eyes focused on hers with unbearable intensity. "I wanted you from the first moment I laid eyes on you. I knew you were a practical woman and I wanted to give you the choice."

Her heart was pounding as his warm, solid body began to make her surrender everything to him, "I should have asked. I would have normally…" Her voice trailed off as his mouth gently brushed hers, teasing her with a feather light touch, "…but goddamn it I can't think straight around you…"

He didn't let her finish.

His lips crashed against hers in a desperately passionate kiss, wasting no time at all before coaxing her mouth open so he could taste all of her with deep searching swipes of his tongue. He feasted on her mouth and Suzanne tried to breathe through her strangled chest and as she was finally becoming dizzy with lack of air, he moved away from her lips to let his mouth kiss along the pale column of her throat in the same needy, wet kisses.

Eames' rough palms slid down to palm her breasts through the soft cashmere of her sweater before trailing down further to grab her backside and pull it flush to the bulging evidence of his own uncontrollable reaction to her. His hips rocked instinctively against her and Suzanne gasped as she felt the outline of his flesh, every last ridge and contour through the thin fabric of his pants and her skirt. Her mouth fell open in a whimper of lust when she realized he wasn't wearing any underwear at all.

As if being possessed by something that over rode her common sense, her thighs parted to feel him better against her heated core as one leg began to lift and wrap high around his hip; holding him tight to her body.

Suzanne could feel his soft lips against her throat slide into a smile as his husky voice rumbled against her skin. "Darling, I'm aghast, we're at a _church_."

"Then take me somewhere else," she moaned, "because I want you inside of me right now."

It was as if he was on a mission. Eames pushed away from her with a mischievous smile, grabbing her hand in his and practically sprinting off of the church island and running through the crowds and cobblestone streets until they practically skidded to a stop in front of a small café. Suzanne couldn't stop laughing as he instantly went from looking intently focused to calm, cool and collected only a moment later as they walked into the busy tourist place and moved towards the bathroom.

"You've got to be kidding!" Suzanne rolled her eyes with a delighted whisper as he covertly scanned the area for a beat before pushing her into the small room and locking the door.

He wasted no time pushing her up against the wall as he went for his belt and zipper with a playful sigh, "Look it isn't the Ritz, but I don't feel like going home for a change of trousers and I'm about a half-second from tearing through these."

"I'm not complaining." She smiled as a wicked idea dawned on her. As he freed himself she deftly reached under her skirt to shimmy off the lacy, practically non-existent panties she was wearing, waving them in front of his face as she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him close. "Do you want to hold onto these for a moment? I'd hate to lose them."

Eames growled as he snatched the scrap of fabric away and buried it in his pocket as his rough hands slid under her skirt to cup her ass and haul her first up, and then down onto his waiting hardness with perfect accuracy before beginning a lightning fast pace that took her breath away.

He was driving into her at a relentless rate and Suzanne had to cover her mouth with her hand to control the screams that were threatening to spill out. His lips were pressed up against her ear and his low snarls, grunts and groans were driving her right over the edge.

She came in a blinding rush minutes later, her insides coiling, twisting and squeezing and Eames followed right behind her with a long, low moan of satisfaction; the hot spurts of his seed flooding into her body.

He kissed her languidly and gently as he let her shaking legs touch the ground while he collected himself from their frantic union. "My God, _darling_, you are absolutely divine."

Suzanne smiled as she looked into the mirror to fix her mussed hair and make sure that her clothes didn't look like she'd just been had against a bathroom wall; she bit her lip as she watched him tuck himself back into his pants and adjust his belt and shirt. With flushed cheeks she turned back to him, "May I have my underwear back, please?"

"Ah, I think it might be safer if I held onto them," Eames laughed with a wicked grin. "After all we wouldn't want you to lose them."

:o:o:o:o

They tried to look as nonchalant as possible as they exited through the line of people eagerly looking for a snack in the middle of the bustling city. As if by the smell alone of the fresh pastry, Suzanne's stomach growled loudly and Eames stared down at her with a quirked eyebrow.

"Hungry?"

The innuendo wasn't missed, despite their minutes old tryst and she rolled her eyes up at him. "Yes, starving actually it has to be about five by now. But I don't want to spoil dinner."

He lazily draped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her close as he chewed his lip thoughtfully. "How about we head through the open air market and grab a few things and head down along the river for a little outdoor meal. Later on if you are still craving something we can hit a place on the way home- and then eat there after we tour the facilities."

"Sounds good, on all accounts," Suzanne answered, unconsciously leaning her head in to rest against his as they strolled through the sunlit street together.

:o:o:o:o

Early dinner consisted of a sill warm baguette, a wheel of brie cheese, a few slices of ham and a handful of fresh cherry tomatoes. Eames also grabbed a bottle of white wine before they wandered over to the Pont des Arts and took a seat on the stone embankment that over looked the pedestrian bridge; laying out their meal on the paper it was wrapped in.

It was surprisingly busy, with a crowd of young University students milling about. Some painting, others playing music, others still wrapped in a romantic embrace, attaching a padlock onto the metal railing of the fence in a superstitious display of everlasting fidelity.

Suzanne's eyes were drawn away from the scene when she noticed her companion reaching into his pocket to remove his wallet, which she also noticed for the first time, was attached to his pants by a very slender gold chain. He opened it to reveal the usual contents of a wallet, plus a number of metal tools. It wasn't exactly something she was familiar with, but she was pretty sure that it was a lock picking set.

He fiddled for a moment with a hooked piece and managed to pop the cork on the bottle of wine with a satisfied smirk before replacing the wallet and taking a swig. He offered it back to her with a sigh of appreciation for the sweet liquid, "Straight from the source, only the classiest for you, darling."

She smiled and took a long pull, smiling at his cheeky comment. "Ah, well after the little bathroom break we had earlier, I think it quite fits."

Eames popped a tomato in his mouth as he chuckled, looking over at the crowd of young twenty-something's with a discerning eye. Suzanne followed his stare until she caught sight of a young well dressed man with glasses who was studiously reading an oversized book and completely disregarding a couple on the bench next to him that were one step away from a public indecency charge.

"Holy Christ!" Eames barked out waving his hand in an excited, bouncing point, "Look it's mini Arthur! Oh, shit, look at him, it's a bloody fucking clone!"

Suzanne burst out laughing at his jubilance and the not so subtle dig at the point man. Just the look on his face alone was enough to send her into hysterics, but as he kept on needling the young man and laughing loudly, she actually felt herself start to cackle like a hyena with her head thrown back and tears streaming from her cheeks.

The bright flash of a camera snapped both of their attention to a young woman standing beside them with a Polaroid camera. She must have been an art student, judging by the pile of long dreadlocks bunched into a bun on her head and the funky long skirt and layered tops she was wearing. Her ears were punched with a large round cork and she seemed to have every necklace and bracelet know to man on her wrists and neck.

"Can we help you, love?" Eames asked with a strange note of aggravation in his voice as his sharp eyes trained on the waifish figure.

"Um, sorry, I didn't mean to be rude," The girl stuttered and Suzanne noticed a fierce red blush staining her collar and her white skin. "You both just looked so amazing and happy, it was beautiful. I just wanted to capture the moment and give it to you." She reached out with a trembling hand to hand over the photo, her brown eyes wide as saucers and completely set on him.

Suzanne was enthralled, but not surprised, at the way the woman was absolutely transfixed by him, and it certainly didn't help when he trained his killer smooth as honey voice on the unsuspecting little thing. "Well thank you, my lovely companion and I appreciate it. Now you should make sure to find someone to make you just as love-struck."

The girl practically ran off and Eames seemed to smile at her expense as he stared at the developed picture. It was a perfect capture of the moment. He was smiling and staring right at her while her head was thrown back and a huge, unadulterated laugh was all over her flushed face.

"I'd like to keep this," He said sincerely. "After all she did give it to me."

Suzanne smirked, "Yes, she did give it to you. She also would have given you her panties if you'd asked."

A mock look of indignation stretched across his handsome face before he leaned in to her mouth for a quick peck. "Ah, but I already have yours in my pocket love, and that is a treasure none can compare to." He quickly tucked the picture into his wallet and popped another tomato into his mouth.

"Glad you realize that," She answered taking a hunk of bread and cheese and a sip of wine. "Otherwise I may have to leave you here by the river all alone."

"Touché, maybe we should set her up with little Arthur, she's all primed and ready."

Suzanne frowned, "What is it with the two of you anyway?"

"Who, Arthur and I?" Eames answered taking the bottle and a huge mouthful.

"Yes."

"Nothing, really, he's a good chap. Just wound up so damn tight with all his little rules and order that I wonder how he manages to go through life without falling asleep from the absolute boredom of his mundane routine. I like to rile him a bit to keep him guessing; it's all in good fun." Eames explained. "Well, good fun for me, anyway."

"I see," She answered with a nod.

"Besides," Eames sighed. "I did him a favor stealing you away; you would have broken him in half, love." Her face flushed as he waggled his eyebrows at her.

"Glad to know you are a generous thief," Suzanne grinned back playfully.

Eames paused at her comment and an odd look flashed across his face before he finished the wine and stood up a moment later.

"Let's go take a walk."

"Oh, alright," Suzanne answered with a surprised look. She gathered up the little bit of leftovers and put them back in the plastic bag to toss into the nearest trashcan. She was just wiping her fingers on her napkin when she felt her phone buzzing in her purse. After rifling for a moment or two she pulled it out and stared at the screen, it was a call from Mal. She rolled her eyes at her friend wanting to no doubt eavesdrop on her evening.

She paused for a beat, almost ready to answer when she caught sight of Eames staring out over the bridge as the setting sun began to set the city off in a beautiful orange glow. The sight of his handsome silhouette against the outline of Paris in the distance was enough to set her heart fluttering in her chest. So without another thought she tucked her phone back into her bag and walked to meet him.

She reasoned that she'd just call Mal back in the morning…after all what could she possibly need to talk to her about that couldn't wait.


	12. Chapter 11

**AN: What a week, seriously...yikes. I apologize for the delay, but I hope the hot little end to Eames and Suzanne's day in Paris is worth it. **

**Goes without saying that these two are up to stuff of the lemon variety...but there is definitely a bit of substance here as well...**

**Please read and review...please and thank you! Honestly...it makes a writer happy!**

* * *

Suzanne was bent over forward, red-faced from exertion, her chest heaving and her heart racing, she just couldn't take any more of this. It was too much. Finally she stood up and threw her head back with a frustrated groan, her long hair whipping back in a cascade, "You need to stop, Eames, please." She gasped out.

Eames turned around and stared down at her from a few steps higher, a questioning look on his handsome face as he huffed back at her. "Whatever is the matter, love?"

"This is ridiculous." She breathed deep and pointed up the seemingly never-ending winding metal platform of stairs. "Why in God's name are we _walking _up the Eiffel Tower?"

He shrugged with an absent stare in the direction her trembling hand was pointing, "Because we are experiencing architecture and man's ingenuity at its finest?" When her green eyes flashed angrily he amended his comment with a smile, raising an eyebrow at her petulant behavior. "Would you prefer the knowledge that we saved five Euros?"

"No. Wait, _FIVE_ Euros?!" Suzanne crossed her arms angrily, "I am sweating my damn ass off and I am ready to drop dead and we saved _five_ Euros."

"I thought you were a sensible one about finances and you'd appreciate it." Eames hopped down to where she was leaning against the fencing and stood beside her with a smile. He cupped her face in his palm and tilted it up so he could kiss her frowning lips in little pecks that began to grow deeper as he spoke in a low growl, "And as for that perfect ass of yours, love-don't you dare lose an inch."

Suzanne couldn't help but smile at him as he pressed her against the hard barrier with his solid, warm form and began to devour her mouth with the plump pillow soft lips that she just couldn't get enough of. "Mmm, I don't know," she teased through the kisses, gasping as his hands came down to grab her backside tightly and grind it against the growing hardness in his pants. "I think it's getting smaller by the moment."

"That's it." He said with a sigh grabbing her hand and starting down the stairs with a bounce in his step, "Fuck Gustave Eiffel and his little iron lattice tower, we're going to get you a glass of champagne and a proper dessert to fatten you right back up."

:o:o:o:o

They made their way back to Montmartre after walking down from the Eiffel Tower, around the Arc de Triomphe and past the high end shops of the Champs-Elysees. The Saturday night tourist crowd around the Moulin Rouge and the main area was almost unbearable, and thankfully Eames was able to maneuver the pair down a few back streets to a rather nondescript little watering hole about three blocks from his place that he'd frequented quite a bit in the past.

The interior was simple, just a few small wooden tables and a bar at the far corner; but the light was low, providing _just_ the right amount of seduction in the atmosphere, and the champagne selection was second to none for the price.

Eames stood at the bar and watched her from across the room with a sharp eye. She was nestled at a cozy little alcove table just big enough for two in the very far corner of the darkened room; the only problem with the situation occurred once he'd stood up to get them a round of drinks- another gentleman had helped himself to his seat and was trying to ply his charms on his beautiful date.

Suzanne seemed to be genuinely alarmed for a moment, her pretty green eyes opened wide at the intrusion and she instantly sought him out for comfort, making sure that he wasn't far. But when he inclined an eyebrow in a playfully silent gesture to hint that she might be replacing him with her new found table companion, she smiled back with a little giggle and purposefully engaged the man in reserved conversation to put on a little show for him.

At least it was entertainment while he waited for the bartender, cheeky little thing.

Eames sighed with a pleasant feeling of contentment as he leaned against the wall, enjoying a calm sensation in his gut that he hadn't felt for some time- if ever. He'd spent the entire day with her aimlessly wandering here and there around the gorgeous city as they discussed everything from architecture to history, and when the situation presented itself they had done a lot of people watching too.

Of course it went without saying that there was a fair amount of kissing, touching, teasing and rubbing up against one another as well…not to mention the exquisite little bathroom wall meeting that had him biting his lip at the memory and reaching into his pocket to touch the soft bit of lace that was still in his possession.

She'd handed him the indecent scrap of fabric she was calling her knickers willingly, and he wasn't quite sure he'd ever give them back. Just the thought of having that sweet smelling little bit of her with him in the dark, hinted at the type of marathon wank session that could leave a man completely spent and seeing stars.

But as much as that thought tempted him, and it _did_ tempt him, it was instantly tempered with the fact that he'd need to do it soon because she wouldn't be sleeping in his bed for much longer.

Eames rubbed his now smooth chin as he stared down at his feet, lost in thought. Suzanne was the first woman he'd ever spent time with that he genuinely _enjoyed_ their presence in more than just a physical sense. He actively found himself trying to make her smile, or bringing up a discussion on a topic just to hear her opinion; for no other reason than the fact that what she _thought_ mattered to him.

And even though he'd been deliberately obtuse and vague about his past, he'd admitted more to her than he ever had to anyone else.

He frowned at the realization that what he was feeling would probably constitute "love" if a normal individual was experiencing it, but with him it wasn't that easy. He fell out of interest with things and people as often as most people changed their socks, his life was a constant whirlwind of sensation and excitement- and he _liked_ it that way. The thought of having to work a 9-5 desk job was enough to make him grimace with a nauseated sensation. Perhaps there was a way to meet up with her every now and then; he knew her work schedule had her rotating eight months of furlough and eight months on the job. It would be terribly interesting finding a new little love nest in a different international destination every eight months…perhaps he'd find her the little cottage by the sea that she wanted.

"Pardon me _Monsieur_," The round faced older man behind the bar said to him loudly, interrupting his thoughts, the heavily accented butchering of the English language readily apparent. Eames couldn't help but grin at the Frenchman, knowing his face alone screamed that he wanted to add "you British fuck" onto the sentence. "What will you have?"

"Ah, I am thinking a nice champagne, what have you got that's good, sweet and non-vintage? You know, a little something to get that pretty thing in the corner smiling more than she is now."

The man actually laughed as if he was amused and pulled out a bottle of perfectly chilled champagne before popping the cork and handing him a towel and two fluted glasses. "Champagne Henriot," he explained unnecessarily. "Good, fresh taste, it will leave her wanting something bitter on her tongue later to wash it down."

Eames laughed as he paid the man with a nod, "We are on the same schedule, my friend. I'll probably need more than this one, though- keep them cold."

He sauntered back to the table and caught her eye half way there. Suzanne was trying to entertain the stereotypical, well dressed young man with an air of dignity, but he could tell that she was on her last nerve. Eames assessed him instantly, like the predator he was, and within a matter of seconds he knew everything. He was a University student, American at that, here in Paris on Mommy and Daddy's dime, probably staying in Pigalle or Montmartre because it was "bohemian". It would normally have been the perfect place to make a move on someone as delicious as Suzanne; perhaps he would have even been able to hold her interest, charm her- that is if he hadn't stepped into the lion's den. Eames had been polite the other night with Arthur when he had pushed him off pursuing her, because he was a colleague- but this wanker…well he wasn't due the same courtesy.

With a dramatic sigh he leaned over the unsuspecting man's shoulder and placed the bottle of champagne on the wooden table with a satisfying "clink".

Suzanne's green eyes lit up instantly with want and Eames had to suppress the purely male urge to puff out his chest and tear out the throat of the pathetic creature in front of him. But he didn't acknowledge the pretty blond thing with his delicate features, his gentle blue eyes or his pouty mouth. For an absent second he was wont to remember walking down a dirty East London alley with his mates after a football match- he wanted to bet that it would take nothing at all for the square jaw of that little shit's to shatter like glass under his fist. But it was her voice, like a hypnotic melody that pulled him back to reality.

"There you are, darling." She breathed with a smile. In a second she leaned back in her chair and gestured over the man's shoulder at him. "Ethan, this is my husband."

Eames felt the words resonate through his ears, traveling down his spine like a lightning bolt to his cock. It was like nothing he'd ever felt before, and it made him pause for a moment before he saw her bite her perfect little bottom lip with a playful smile. So, it would seem that the lioness had recognized his claim as well. He let his palm fall heavily on the man's shoulder and he could barely keep the laugh out of his voice as he spoke, "Thanks for keeping my chair warm, but I think it's time you shipped off."

The look on the trust fund baby's face was priceless. But after a solid pause of a few seconds with no movement, Eames knew that it was going to take a little more that a kind word to dismiss her guest. Without a thought he placed the two champagne flutes on the table and poured out a glass for each of them before setting them down and taking a passionate look at the woman in front of him, lifting her out of her seat, holding her in his arms bridal style and finally sitting down with her across his lap.

Suzanne, for her part was shocked at first, but he stared at her with a rakish smile as she wound her hands around his neck and laughed with that same unadulterated, genuine laugh he'd heard earlier along the Seine. Her green eyes were glowing with something unbelievably warm, and he couldn't do anything but stare at her as he leaned in to take her mouth in a deep, searching kiss. One hand came up to cradle the back of her neck as he opened her mouth to dive as far as possible with his tongue, making her whimper with need and desire as he finally pulled away and stared at the now alarmed young man across the table.

"You're still sitting there."

Suddenly University Ethan finally located his balls and decided to speak, "She's not wearing a ring."

Eames smiled as he looked at Suzanne, who looked more open than anything at the moment, to play a little. "You aren't wearing a ring, darling?" He asked absently.

"I'm not."

"Sweetheart," Eames scolded as he tipped up her chin and made a show of letting his mouth open and his tongue swipe across her lips in a rather overt, lustful display. "What have I told you about doing that? It makes me have to explain things to little boys who stumble in where they don't belong."

Suzanne sighed and stared back at the slowly comprehending man across the table. "I'm sorry about that, Ethan. It was terribly rude of me to waste your time."

"Yeah, whatever," He grumbled before finally getting up and walking away.

She tried to stop the laughter from bubbling out of her chest at the way he left like a spoiled rotten child. "Thank you." She breathed to Eames as she moved to get off his lap and slide into the empty chair. A squeak of surprise puffed out of her as his hands came around her waist to tightly hold her in place against the hard, warm wall of his body.

"Ah, ah, ah," He teased against her ear, the tone of accusing humor lacing through his voice. "Just when did we get married, love?"

Suzanne rolled her eyes and turned to look at him with a matter-of-fact answer, "When he wouldn't take a subtle hint that I wasn't interested. I mean I think that my non-verbal cues are pretty easy to follow, wouldn't you say."

Eames laughed and leaned them forward to grab first a glass of champagne to hand to her and then one for him, "I see, and here I was thinking that we were going to have this bottle of bubbly to celebrate our nuptials."

She raised an eyebrow at his over the top tone of disappointment as she took a sip from her glass. "Mhm, well, one, I don't see a ring, Mr. Eames, and two…I generally wait more than a week before committing my life to something."

"My little Annie," he laughed, tossing back the glass in one long swig, "always so practical and sensible. I would have thought that you would be the type too unconventional for something as foolish as a diamond ring."

She finished her drink, and smiled at his affectionate tone, "I never claimed to be a woman who didn't like diamonds, and besides, what would you have symbolize our union in this fictitious little scenario in your mind if not rings?" She leaned over to grab the bottle and refilled both of their glasses. "This is delicious by the way."

"Mmm, yes, pleasure without champagne is purely artificial," Eames mused as he took another drink.

"You would take advice from a stalwart example of self-control like Oscar Wilde," Suzanne said with a grin.

"Guilty as charged, love. The man was nothing but inspiration." He answered. His voice suddenly became low and husky, "Now to answer your earlier question, there is nothing fictitious about my mindset. There is something you have that fits me like no other woman's has ever done before…" Eames trailed off and Suzanne suddenly found it had to breathe as he looked directly at her, the grey of his eyes darkening with lust, and beneath her backside undeniable evidence of his passion was readily apparent, "…and I can't imagine finding anything more blissful than the feeling of being deep inside you."

Her heart was pounding and she could feel her entire body ignite, "I've never felt anything fill me like you do…ever."

She couldn't stop herself from putting down her glass and grabbing his face to take his mouth in a desperate kiss. He tasted like sweet champagne and as that combined with the insane musk he was wearing, Suzanne couldn't control herself. She felt her lower body gush with warm, wet desire and she sucked on his plump lips with enthusiasm before putting her mouth to his ear and tonguing the lobe. Eames hissed and his hands tightened on her waist when she wiggled her ass against his raging hard-on and whispered, "I want to ride you, right here, right now."

"Bloody _fucking_ hell," He groaned lowly, his cock almost bursting with her filthy request, "Not here darling, I want you screaming my name."

"Let's take the bottle to-go." Suzanne whispered against his mouth, "I'm going to want it afterwards."

Eames growled and stood her up, grabbing the bottle with one hand her ass with the other, steering her out through the front door of the bar. There was nothing better than knowing he was three blocks from fucking this woman into oblivion- that is until he noticed that little wanker Ethan got a good look at the massive tenting in his pants and the look of need on Suzanne's face. Now _that_ was absolutely fucking perfect.

:o:o:o:o

They almost didn't make it back to his place.

Suzanne couldn't control herself; she was like a horny teenager. She could have given a care that she was openly groping his crotch in public as they walked down the back streets. Thankfully for her pride in the morning, no one else happened to be around. But when Eames opened the large oak door to the stairs of his building and stepped inside she finally lost it completely.

With a burst of lust-fueled strength she pushed him up against the wall and her hands instantly went to his belt, pulling it open and popping the button on his trousers. Her green eyes flickered up to stare at his face in the near darkness and she grinned wickedly when she saw the sinister, almost animal hunger on his face. It only increased as she slowly slid down to her knees, pulling his zipper with it until she was staring up at him.

She never did this. Taking a man in her mouth was something that was too intimate…too submissive for her to do. It meant giving someone else control, and she never let go. But now, in the hallway, listening to the ragged in and out of Eames' breath and staring at the perfect, thick, rock-hard specimen of masculinity front of her face- she couldn't think of anything other than the fact that her mouth was literally watering. Suzanne's tongue darted out to lick her lips before she grabbed him tightly in her hand and dipped her head forward to take him in her mouth.

"Oh, fuck, _darling_," Eames groaned as he watched her begin to bob up and down along his length with eager precision, alternating hard suction and teasing slow movements. His free hand came up to touch her face before reaching out to grasp her thick hair in a gentle fist. "Mmm, God, you are going to suck the life out of me you sweet thing."

Suzanne moaned in appreciation around his hard flesh, feeling herself grow even more damp and swollen as the sensation of having him like this. Ironically, instead of feeling submissive, it was the most powerful she'd ever felt as a woman. She had this gorgeous, cultured, sexy as hell _man_ trembling, gasping and shaking with each moist pull of her mouth and tongue. And when she took a deep breath and took him as far as she could in her mouth, he almost yelled out at the sensation of touching the back of her throat.

His hand dropped to her cheek to push her away with a panting breath, "You have to stop, love. I can't take anymore."

She bit her lip and stared up at him with hooded eyes, "But I want to taste you… _please_…Eames I want to see you come like this." Normally she would have been appalled at the thought of what she was begging for, but she didn't care.

Eames snarled and zipped his pants, grabbing her hand and pulling her up the five flights of stairs, somehow still managing to be gentle as his entire body was seething with lust from every pore. He was barely able to get the door to his place unlocked before pushing her in, slamming it shut, throwing the bottle of champagne on the butcher-block table and tearing off his clothes. Suzanne was shaking as she stripped off her sweater and was going for the zipper on her skirt when he grabbed her in his arms and tossed her onto his bed with a growl, "Leave it on." She moaned like a wanton woman possessed as he flipped her onto her stomach and grabbed her hips in his warm, large hands, hauling her back and impaling her on his cock in one swift move before beginning a lightning fast fire of thrusts.

Tears began to fill her eyes as she took everything that he was giving her, it was too much, and not enough at the same time. Her hands scrabbled and fisted in his cranberry colored sheets as he leaned over her back to completely cover her with his muscular form, putting his mouth to her ear and barely slowing the unending assault of his hips.

"Touch yourself, love." He commanded with a husky whisper. "I want to know that every time you do that from now on, you'll think of me…Doing. _This._ To. You." He punctuated his words with deep thrusts that bottomed out against her cervix and had her seeing blazing white flashes of light.

Suzanne hesitated for a split second, knowing that he was right. After feeling him rub against every inch of her insides, she knew her fingers would never be enough again- she'd only want him- his body, his cock…everything else would leave her wanting. Biting her lip she closed her eyes, balanced on a stack of pillows, and reached down to thread her fingers through her soaking wet folds to find the hard little button that was swollen with need. In a blissful moment of all consuming sensation she condemned herself. She dropped her head and arched her back as her orgasm slammed into her with unrelenting force, her mouth fell open and she felt the very air suck out of her lungs as she wordlessly convulsed on him, her insides throbbing with unbearable strength.

She was dazed as he quickly pulled out of her body and she suddenly registered through her fogged brain that he needed her now. Suzanne shoved him down onto his back and dove onto him, taking him all into her mouth in one pull. She could taste herself all over him and the sweet moisture added to her already uncontrollable libido. Eames stretched out on his bed with one hand behind his head and the other wrapped in her hair as she worked on him with the same ruthless efficiency and perfection that she did anything else. He was moaning and licking his perfect lips, teething the plump flesh and it was the sexiest thing she had ever seen in her entire life. Suzanne stared at him intently as she felt the already rock-hard flesh in her mouth turn to velvet covered steel before he started to mumble incoherently. She couldn't hear much, but the desperate timber of his voice and the occasional "fuck" was enough to make her unbearably hot all over again.

"Love," He moaned loudly, "I'm done for if you don't stop…"

It was what she'd been waiting for. Suzanne concentrated her efforts, working him hard with her hand and her mouth, keeping her eyes on his as he leaned his head up to stare at her with grey eyes filled with lust and awe. He suddenly stiffened his entire body and let his mouth drop open in a low, rumbling groan of pure satisfaction as he came in a rush, flooding her mouth- never losing her face. He didn't blink as he watched her swallow every last bit of him, before letting his spent manhood gently fall out of her perfect pink mouth. His chest was heaving and Eames pulled her up onto it to kiss her deeply before wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace.

They were silent for a long moment before Suzanne eased out of his arms to stand up, unhooking her bra and unzipping her skirt to leave them on a puddle on the floor as she walked completely naked into the kitchen to retrieve the now room temperature bottle of champagne. She took a long pull off the bottle and smiled as she sauntered back to the bed, "I can't believe how classy you have made me, Mr. Eames." He laughed as she handed him the bottle and instantly curled up next to him, kissing the Union Jack tattoo over his heart.

"Darling, I have the simplest tastes; I am always satisfied with the best." Eames smiled as he drank the bottle greedily.

"Mmm," Suzanne sighed, letting her fingers trail up and down the hard ridges of his tanned muscles, "Wilde again, I see."

"It fit, love. If there is anything more satisfying than good champagne, a beautiful woman and utter satisfaction, I have no idea what it is."

She smiled against him as he finished the bottle and maneuvered them under the downy soft blankets, kissing her head as she held on tight and they both closed their eyes to a black, complete sleep.


	13. Chapter 12

**AN: What a weekend...busy, busy...but I had to give you something. **

**I just want to give a huge shout out to the always lovely and disgustingly talented, WinterIsComing01for her little tribute in her amazing story, _The Unexpected Mission._ (Her 'This Means War' stories are the best in the archive) There is a little in here as a nod back to that piece. : ). **

**Please as always, your reviews mean a lot...**

* * *

_Paris, France_

_Fall 2007_

* * *

Sunday morning Suzanne woke early for just a moment with a smile on her face and a bone melting feeling of contentment in her body. She was blissfully warm, wrapped in the soft down bedding; but she wanted to admit that it was probably the hard, muscular man that was pressed against her back that was contributing the most to the delicious temperature. Eames was holding her close, his strong arms wrapped around her body and his legs tangled between hers.

She bit her lip as she remembered the entire events of the previous day. Breakfast on the balcony, the stroll through the city, a rustic dinner along the Seine, and a glass of champagne in a back alley bar…and then she almost moaned in delight when she recalled that he'd made good on his promise and made love to her, whenever the mood struck. Though it wasn't like she had been a passive participant in the activities; her cheeks flushed in reflex when she remembered kneeling down in the foyer of his building and going down on him, basically in public. But damn, for the reaction and insane animal passion it stoked in him, she would be doing it again…and again.

He'd taken her twice more in the middle of the night. They started as nothing more than an innocent, sleepy roll over. But before she knew it, Eames was on top of her efficiently and wordlessly working her into a mind-numbingly intense climax that took hold of her body in long, slow waves- both times making her literally see stars in the darkness. And Suzanne was quite sure that she'd never slept as deeply and felt more relaxed than she did in his arms after something like_ five_ orgasms in a day…it was indescribable.

Suddenly, from across the room, her phone began to ring loudly; shattering the perfect silence of the apartment. _Oh, shit_, she remembered in a blur it was Sunday morning. That would be her _mother _calling. Suzanne knew better than to not answer this one; the woman would keep calling until she answered.

She tried to slide out of the strong grip of his arms, but as soon as she sat up Eames pulled her back down under the blankets growling playfully, his voice rough with sleep. "Just where do you think you are getting off to so early, love."

"My mother's weekly phone call," She explained, kissing him on the lips and finally wiggling free. "I can't miss this, she'll hound me." He relented with another kiss and she practically jogged across the room to dig out her phone, answering in on the second set of rings.

"Hey Ma," Suzanne answered in a huff, trying to ignore the fact she was standing in Eames' apartment completely stark naked, as the gorgeous, equally bare Brit was watching her from bed with interest in his sharp grey eyes. "How was your week?"

"Good. How's yours?"

"Really good," She answered honestly, knowing that it had been a whole three days since she'd talked to her and there really wasn't much to say…well that she'd openly offer to her mother anyway. "But generally not much happens to a person from Thursday to Sunday."

"Is that so," There was an ominous pause on the other end of the line, and Suzanne knew before the words even came across the receiver that the damn woman knew that something was up. "So, are you standing in his place or yours right now?"

Her face went red and she stared at the floor, trying to hide herself from Eames and briefly considering going into the bathroom for some damn privacy. "What are you talking about, you crazy lady?"

"Suzanne Elizabeth," Her mother scolded. "I have known you for 32 years; I _know_ when you are hiding something from me. Not to mention the fact that you have always been a terrible liar, just like your father. Now spill it, tell me all about this stud."

"I'm not in my place." She answered, trying to avoid looking up at Eames who was now very interested in what she was saying. He suddenly kicked off the covers and stretched, showing off every inch of his perfect tanned and tattooed body to her eyes- including the morning erection that was standing up, tall, thick and proud; as if beckoning to her to it. Suzanne had to swallow hard to control the way that her mouth watered at the sight and her brain completely short circuited when he let one had rest behind his head and the other begin to rub the washboard plane of his abs.

"Are you there?" Her mother asked. "Did you hear me?"

"Yeah, um I mean no," Suzanne answered as she smiled, realizing she had no damn idea what she'd just said to her. "What's up?"

"I asked you where you met him." She spoke in a measured tone. "My GOD, Suzanne, he must be screwing the sense right out of you. Hallelujah, finally, a man packing enough to make my baby girl speechless. Is he good? Tell me all about him!"

She tried to cover her red face as she laughed instinctively, "He's sitting right here, you know. Why don't we wait until later to go over the details?"

"Oooh put him on the phone, honey. I want to say hello."

"Mother! I don't think so." Suzanne answered in a perfectly straight tone. "Not appropriate."

"_Now_."

Suzanne stiffened at the tone; there was no arguing with her mother at all when it came down to it. Not to mention the fact that she had most likely enjoyed a couple of glasses of Pinot Grigio with dinner, so there was no way she was getting out of this without letting her get her way. "Fine," She sighed walking across the room towards the bed and her very interested companion who was rising up an eyebrow as she approached. "She wants to talk to you."

Eames smiled and took the phone, "Good morning, Mrs. Williams. I imagine its past midnight in Boston, am I right?" He smiled at her as he stood, letting his honey smooth voice roll out of those sinful lips. She couldn't help but curl up on the bed and watch him as he charmed the pants off her mother, and even though she was only privy to half of the conversation she knew her well enough to imagine the questions she was badgering him with. Her mother could be like a damn drill sergeant, wanting name, rank and social security number. But the charming man just seemed to take it all in stride, answering her questions and giving some of his own.

"Yes, London," Eames laughed pleasantly. "Ah, I see. Well the accent is distinct. Yes, I am familiar with that area. Lovely to know, I'll have to look for it the next time I find myself in the area."

She openly frowned; did he just tell her where he was from?

"No, actually she hasn't cooked for me as of yet. But I am afraid that is my fault, you see I've been taking her out for meals; one has to be a perfect gentleman to woo a woman as lovely as Suzanne." He was openly grinning now. "You don't say? I love a good coq au vin, and if it is a family recipe than I would be honored to try it. A baker as well, really, now. I do think she's been hiding things from me."

Suzanne was now sitting up staring right at him with a completely puzzled look on her face.

"I will, Mrs. Williams…_Pauline_, if you insist. It was so lovely to speak to you as well. I will give her your love, have a wonderful week. And yes, if I find myself lucky enough to be here next week I will certainly enjoy another conversation. Bye, now." He hung up the phone and shook his head, looking up at her with a sparkling gleam of genuine mirth in his grey eyes. "Your mother is _quite_ the woman, darling. I see where you get that beautiful fire from."

"Oh she is." Suzanne admitted as he walked back to the bed, putting her phone on the side table before crawling on top of her and wrapping her legs around his waist while he settled between her legs, "Mmm, though she is far more out spoken than I am."

Eames kissed along her neck with hot, slow licks, "I am _very_ upset though."

"Why is that?" She breathed as he moved up to nibble on her ear.

"Your mother told me that you are unbelievable in the kitchen, and you haven't even offered to make me a bowl of oatmeal."

She gasped in pleasure as he rubbed himself up against her core, soaking wet again from the attentions last night and the feeling of his renewed desire. "When was I supposed to offer, Mr. Eames? You have kept my schedule very full with other activities."

They both groaned as he slipped inside her and began to move slowly, continuing the conversation as he rolled his hips, driving them both insane. "How about today, love? You can spend the day in the kitchen…making dinner in my shirt…while I attend to any and every desire you may have…and then we'll enjoy it tonight like gluttons, feasting on every morsel while we're completely naked."

Just the thought of spending a day like that with him, and having it narrated in that _voice_, was enough for her to tighten up inside and send her barreling towards completion, "Oh, God, yes!" She gasped out. Just as she felt herself reach the plateau her phone rang again. Eames faltered in his pace for a second and Suzanne huffed angrily as she felt her climax start to slip away. "Don't stop! I have fucking voicemail!" He laughed at her petulance and began to hit her off hard and fast in apology before his phone started ringing as well.

They wouldn't stop ringing; it was like a chorus of alarm bells sounding over and over… finally Eames pulled out of her and furiously stalked to his phone.

"WHAT!" He barked into the receiver. Suzanne froze at the tone of his voice, she'd never heard him so irritated before, and it had to be the ghosting sensation of his cock moving inside her and the orgasm that was held at bay that made her find the entire thing to be unbearably hot. "Honestly, Arthur, you must have _unbelievable _radar to be able to call at the worst fucking moment at seven-thirty on a Sunday morning, can I call you back after I've come- I'll be much more apt to talk work…"

Eames suddenly froze and his face fell, as well as other parts of his body. "You have to be fucking kidding me mate, when did that happen?"

Suzanne's phone rang again and she leaned over to notice that it was Mal calling, she answered it with a sigh as the last of her arousal disappeared as well. "Hey, what's up hon?"

"You didn't hear?" Mal said her voice was sad and distant.

"No."

"William Graham is dead."

"What!" She gasped, "Shit! How the hell did that happen?"

"Car accident or something in London last night, there isn't much information being released, but the police are openly saying it seemed suspicious." Mal explained. "But unfortunately that does us no good, we are out of luck for the extraction job."

"I'm really sorry, Mal. I know that Dom was really counting on that." Suzanne said genuinely upset for her friend. The half million dollar loss was disappointing for her as well, but frankly she was more upset that they'd never get to actually work on the job as a group- she had a feeling they could have done something really incredible together.

"Yeah," She agreed her tone still different than normal. There was something in her voice that Suzanne couldn't recognize. "Dom and I are leaving for LA tomorrow afternoon. He has a few people that he is going to meet with, and I have a couple architectural bids that I want to get involved in. I'd like to see you before I go."

"Of course," Suzanne said as she chewed her lip, remembering that Eames had sort of already made an agenda for the day. But this was her best friend, she didn't want to miss the opportunity to say goodbye…and after all they _had_ intended to make dinner, it would now just be for a few more people, and clothed. "Why don't you and Dom come over to Eames' place for dinner, we can get together as a team one last time. Do you need the address?"

"That sounds great! Dom knows his place," Mal's excitement was palpable; and Suzanne smiled as she kept talking, "Do you want me to bring anything?"

"How about a salad, some cheeses and a great dessert wine, I have the rest. Does seven work?"

"Yes! Oh, we will see you then!"

Suzanne hung up to see Eames staring at her with his eyes playfully narrowed as he was obviously still talking to Arthur. She mouthed; _ask him to dinner,_ and his playful pout turned into an actual frown. Her own stare narrowed, and she channeled her mother as Eames grumbled and scrubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, look, apparently I _just_ discovered Suzanne is making a meal tonight. You want to join us?" He nodded. "10 Rue Cauchois, fifth floor; seven, see you then."

He hung up and turned to her, "So I suppose dining naked is off the plans, darling."

She rolled her eyes and walked over to kiss him on the lips, "Be a good dinner host and I'll be sure to reward you with plenty of nudity when our company leaves."

:o:o:o:o

Suzanne strolled through the local market in Pigalle and filled her arms with everything that she needed for dinner, Eames had been insistent after speaking with her mother that he was due the family coq au vin recipe, and she was damn willing to deliver. She gathered up a normally impossible to find fresh rooster- there was something to be said for making a French dinner in France- a bottle of great burgundy, a slab of bacon, garlic, carrots, onions, mushrooms, fresh thyme and rosemary, tomato paste and lastly a bit of flour she wasn't sure a bachelor would have in his kitchen, she laughed when she remembered him pulling out the beautiful dutch oven from his cabinet that had never been used. He'd explained to her indignantly that he was a breakfast "gentleman", and that he'd never had a need to cook dinner before. She'd told him that he could handle the breakfast from now on and she'd handle the dinners, it would make for a happy life together.

A happy life with him- it suddenly made her tingle, she wasn't quite sure just what had made her say it with such nonchalance. Or when the "marriage" that she had brought up off hand last night as a defense mechanism to ward off that obnoxious man had become something that the two of them were openly going to joke about. Her mother was one for saying that people never said anything about love and marriage that they didn't mean on some level, and with Mal and Dom leaving the city tomorrow, and the job gone, she would be left with the realization in the morning that a conversation would have to be had.

She didn't know what the future held, but she did know that she couldn't leave Paris and never see Eames again. He had gotten under her skin in the best way possible and even now, as she just barely mulled over him, her heart beat quickened and her chest tightened up with a warm feeling.

She absently gathered some pears and apples for desert as her head began to work overtime. Was this love? It couldn't be. It was _completely_ impractical, she had met him on Thursday, and now on Sunday morning she was ready to follow him anywhere. That sort of thing didn't happen, right? The whole concept of "soul-mates" was dime store bullshit that they sold to naïve little school girls…and yet when she remembered lying in his arms this morning, it was the best way to describe what she had felt- she felt like she was home.

:o:o:o:o

"I'm back!" She called out an hour later as she pushed into the door after lugging the armfuls of heavy bags up the stairs, irritated that Eames hadn't answered her phone calls to help her. "A little help would have been nice…" Suzanne groused until she raised her head and literally froze in shock. There were candles lit on every surface of the flat, the flickering light glowed softly in the dim room and she noticed that a steaming bath had been drawn in the antique claw foot tub in the corner. She couldn't stop her eyes from watering as Eames walked out of the bathroom in his atrocious robe with two fluffy towels and a warm smile on his beautiful face.

"I thought we could have a nice soak and then a little snack before you started on your meal, love."

She honestly tried not to cry, it was stupid to be emotional about something so simple. So she turned around and walked into the kitchen, throwing the things that needed to stay cool into the refrigerator and tried to be dignified as she wiped away her tears. But he was there when she stood up; as if he knew that something was bothering her. His hands were warm and gentle as he cradled her cheeks in his hands, wiping away her errant tears with a swipe of his thumb.

"Whatever is the matter?"

Suzanne felt her heart stutter in her chest as she stared deep into his eyes, seeing none of the cocky, playful arrogance that he liked to show the world, and for a moment she knew that she was seeing _him_. Her mind was screaming, and through the storm she couldn't stop the thought that cut right through it all, she was in love with him. She_ loved_ him, but when she opened her mouth to say it, his lips were there instead to steal her words in a slow, drugging kiss. He pulled away with a small smile and pulled her over to the tub, tugging off her clothes and letting her climb into the warm water.

He disappeared for a moment before returning from the bathroom with a bright yellow bit of plastic waving in his hand. It was the rubber duck. It was a perfect way to lighten the mood. "Can't take a bath without this now can we?" Eames grinned as he tossed the toy into the bath and shucked his robe. He joined her standing in the tub before settling back against the perfectly molded porcelain lip and helping her to sit in front of him to recline against his chest; her ebony hair falling down over the back his shoulder.

A sigh of pure contentment slipped from her lips as the warm water lapped against her skin, soothing the flesh between her legs that had admittedly started to be a bit sore from his constant attention, and she nuzzled against his face, "This is wonderful, thank you, baby."

She felt him smile against her face at the new term of endearment, his soft lips like pillows on her forehead. "I have to confess, love; it was another of my purely selfish endeavors. I couldn't think of anything more perfect than lying here with you washing you clean from head to toe so I can make you absolutely filthy later tonight."

Suzanne bit her lip and she felt him stirring to life behind her, "Well, Mr. Eames, I have to say, I _am_ a rather big fan of making love in water. So I think I am just as selfish as you are. We are evenly matched." She purposely shifted against his body so she could rub against his hardness, before reaching back to grab his head and pull his mouth to hers. He smiled into the kiss as he trailed his fingers down her upturned arm and let them dip down into the water to reach the satiny smooth skin of her breasts where he absently traced the round skin.

"Is that so?" He groaned against her mouth, "I'll have to make sure that the little cottage of ours has a tub big enough for two, then." She smiled in answer to his statement as she grabbed his hand, trailing it over her stomach until his large fingers dipped into the molten warmth of her center before coming up to tease the top of her sex with a flick of his fingertip, "We'll spend months and never leave the house, darling."

She writhed against him and moaned appreciatively at his promise, letting her eyes fall on the silly little rubber duck that was rocking pleasantly on the waves that they were creating with their growing passion before closing her eyes and submitting completely to him. Whatever was on her mind was lost under his skilled, confident hands and Suzanne knew by the way he was touching her that he felt it too. For that brief second in time there was nothing but possibilities and the two of them alone together in the world to greedily take them all.


	14. Chapter 13

**AN: Writing, writing, writing…**

**It crossed my mind that there is a lot that goes on in Inception with the back story and the concepts involved in Nolan's vision, so thanks to Mals86 for letting me know that some topics and subtle weaves that I may do might get missed…so I do want to ask that if anyone has any questions, please PM me. I am far from an expert, but I do want to explain my mindset in the story. The last piece of this chapter is full of super important foreshadowing that is pretty obvious and very ominous…if I could put a 100 foot glowing neon sign that is where I would point you : ).**

**Secondly, to those of you that have read my Lawless fic, you will recognize the appearance of my awesome Mem, who is one of my heroes. I spent time with her recently and it was awesome (not to mention endlessly hysterical)… and the little bit in here about her and my Grandfather is absolutely true to life ; ).**

**Please, please, PLEASE read and review! Honestly…it makes me work!**

**Letting this out without a crazy edit...cause I want to!**

* * *

_Paris, France_

_Fall 2007_

* * *

Suzanne sighed as she wiped a bit of flour off of her forehead. It was safe to say that even though she knew her Memere's recipes like the back of her hand, it had been a very long time since she'd cooked a meal for more than one person, let alone five- one of which she really wanted to impress. So there were more than a little bit of nerves involved as she bravely took a cleaver to the huge rooster carcass.

Eames, for his part simply sat at the table watching her intently, smiling at her huffs and sighs and sniffing appreciatively as she fried up the bird, searing the floured and seasoned pieces before removing them and beginning the rich sauce.

"So tell me where this fantastic and incredibly sexy love of cooking came from, my darling." He asked with a smile.

She laughed as she handed him the bottle of burgundy to uncork, "That would be from the lovely ladies in my family. My mom and her mom; it is something that was beaten into me at a young age. According to my Memere's philosophy, I needed to learn to cook because no matter how successful a woman is in the workplace, she still needs to be able to keep her man satisfied in two places, in the kitchen and in the bedroom."

A slow grin pulled across his face as he handed her back the bottle, "Well, I'll have to reserve my judgment until after the meal tonight as far as the kitchen goes; but as for the bedroom, love- I think she would have been very proud of your skills. I find myself to be_ incredibly_ satisfied."

Suzanne rolled her eyes and tried to control the flush that decorated her cheeks, "Well thank you. And what do you mean 'would have been', she's quite alive."

"You are kidding," Eames said genuinely impressed.

She shook her head as a fond smile pulled at her mouth. "She's going to be ninety-one next month, and she makes my mother look like a puppy dog. But she seems sad nowadays, she just lost my Grandfather three years ago, they were married for seventy years. I can't imagine what that must be like." Suzanne knew that she was rambling about personal things that he could really care less about, but it felt good to say it to another person. "Do you know that more than seventy years later, right before he died, he told me what she was wearing on the day that he met her in absolute perfect detail. I can't even remember what I was wearing three days ago."

There was a shift of something behind his eyes and Suzanne swallowed hard as he stared at her with overwhelming intensity. "You wore a fitted lilac blouse with the top two buttons undone, it clung to every curve. Khaki pants and black leather boots with just enough heel to make your hips rotate when you walked. You smelled like English lavender, stood with your head high and proud and you had no idea that every man that set eyes on you was completely and utterly captivated."

The tears began to well in her eyes and she said it without even thinking, "What are we _doing_, Eames- me and you, what _is_ this?"

He paused for a minute and looked down at his hands before answering her in a quiet tone. "I have no idea, love. I had all intentions of enjoying myself a little in Paris and then moving on; it's my usual M.O. I'm ashamed to say. But I think we both know that isn't the case here."

It was an admission, and somewhat of a confession, but his answer still gave her absolutely no idea what he wanted.

"Do you want to be with me?" Suzanne asked quietly, turning around when she smelled that the sauce needed another stir. It thankfully gave her something to do as the seconds ticked away and he said nothing. Her hands started to shake when she realized that just because she had fallen absolutely madly in love with the man behind her didn't mean that he felt the same way…suddenly she felt like a foolish child and she _hated_ that she'd been weak enough to wear her heart on her sleeve.

In fact, once again, she was so caught up in her head she missed the moment he walked around the counter and came up behind her. His hand gently grabbed her arm and turned her around, "Annie, _love_, look at me." He tilted her chin up to meet his face and he smiled, "I have _no_ idea how to make this work, but I do know that I cannot leave Paris and never see you again. I'm quite taken with you, it would seem."

Suzanne laughed at his cavalier way of making a heartfelt statement, and even though it definitely didn't answer all of her questions, it was honest. They lived difficult lives, and she loved her job too much to leave it, so if she had to wait to see him for eight months at a time…she could do that. As long as he was waiting, she would meet him.

"Good to know, Mr. Eames." She answered as he leaned in to kiss her deeply. His hands began to wander to the buttons of the awful yellow, paisley shirt of his that she was cooking in per his request, and Suzanne slapped them away quickly. "I have a sauce simmering on the stove," she scolded as he heart fluttered in that rhythm she was coming to love as much as him. "There will be _none_ of that until our guests leave; I have a schedule to keep."

He openly pouted and stepped back, the stress and seriousness of the earlier moment falling away. "You know I am really beginning to dislike this whole 'social dinner party' idea. That's twice today that Arthur has come between me and an orgasm, and I am starting to think that I am going to be grumpy when I see him this evening."

She rolled her eyes at his childish behavior, "Honestly?! I think you have been rather spoiled as of late with orgasms. Arthur has done nothing of the sort, so you'll behave when you see him." A sly grin appeared on her face as she stepped against him and reached out with her hand to cup him hard through his thin robe, stroking the hardening flesh with her palm. "Now if you want to help me instead of _whining_ I suggest you pick up a knife and cut up those apples and pears into nice thin slices and maybe if you've done that in a manner I find satisfactory, I'll keep it in mind to be rewarded later."

"As you wish, Mademoiselle," He answered with a cheeky tone, before lowering his mouth to her ear and holding her hand tight against him as he rocked. "Mmm, and for the record I love it when that mouth of yours gets so commanding. Reminds me of standing in my stairwell last night completely powerless; it's funny how when you are on your knees you can rule me like a Queen, and when I am in the same position I feel like I am helpless at the feet of a goddess- completely unfair, darling."

"Get to work," She breathed, trying to control the arousal that had woken in her body. "And I swear to God Eames, you and that fucking silver tongue are going to work overtime tonight."

"Promises, promises," He taunted moving behind her and grabbing a knife. "Maybe I'll skip dessert then…wouldn't want to fill up on this when I have a sweeter fruit to snack on."

Suzanne rolled her eyes and turned back to dinner trying desperately to cool herself down, he was so deliciously insufferable.

:o:o:o:o

Everything for the meal came together perfectly, and Suzanne quickly jumped in the shower again a little after six to wash her hair and had to basically use a remedial form of improvised self defense to keep Eames from touching her as she dried and curled her hair. But in the end it was when he was standing in the bathroom in only a towel, his tan skin still warm and a little damp, and he sprayed that little bottle of pure magic on his body that _she_ was the one who lost it. She jumped on him and practically devoured his mouth, tearing off his towel and begging him to take her hard and fast as she bent over the sink.

Admittedly it was not her proudest moment of self-control, but as she watched the two of them moving in the mirror as he worked her flawlessly, she had to say they made for quite a hot show. And it was worth every, blistering second.

There was just enough time after they finished for the two of them to get dressed, her in a simple black skirt and emerald green button up shirt and him in a charcoal pair of pants and an only semi-tacky blue and tan striped shirt, before there was a knock at the door at 6:45. Suzanne fluffed her hair and touched up her light makeup, just a little mascara, eye-liner and clear gloss- her cheeks and lips were still plenty flushed thanks to her wanton activities, and walked to the door.

It was Arthur. He was early, as to be expected, black hair gelled perfectly into place and dressed in a lovely navy blue cashmere sweater over a white collared shirt with impeccably creased khaki pants. He smiled warmly, emphasizing the dimples in his baby soft face and held up a bottle of Zinfandel, "Wasn't sure if you needed me to bring anything?"

Suzanne smiled back, "Just yourself." She stepped out of the way and gestured for him to enter.

He looked around for a beat and surveyed the interior of the place, catching a glimpse of the massive bed in the center of the room before searching out Eames who was leaning casually against the kitchen table. "Nice place you have here Eames," Arthur spoke matter-of-factly. "I have to say, I am impressed."

"Glad to know I have your derisive approval, Arthur, as always it is the highlight of my day, thank you."

Suzanne rolled her eyes at the banter and walked to the kitchen to hand off the wine. "Open that, please. And serve your guest."

Eames popped the cork and decanted out three glasses as he gestured for Arthur to sit down at the table with the two of them.

The thin man sat and stared at the antique wood and ran his hand over the top surface, "This is a great table." His compliment was genuine, but the instant he mentioned the item of furniture Eames' eyes snapped up to look at Suzanne who was slowly, but surely fighting the creep of blush as it rose up from her collar.

"It _is _a great table," Eames pressed, turning forward to rest two hands on the edge and aim his crotch perfectly level with the table top before rocking against it, "Well built, really stable too."

To anyone else, their guest included, nothing would have seemed out of the ordinary about the observation. But the only thing Suzanne could remember is being spread out on it like a banquet as he literally fucked her until she screamed. Thankfully another knock on the door saved her from absolute death from mortification. She quickly jogged to the door and opened it up to see Dom and Mal, both of their arms filled with bags and containers.

"I said _one_ salad and a bottle of wine." Suzanne shook her head as she took the huge cardboard box from her friend and beckoned them inside.

"Well, you know my wife," Dom said with a small smile. "She's always concerned someone is going to leave having eaten less than what would fill seven people."

He tried to look amused at his own joke, but she was quick to notice that there was something in his blue eyes that hinted something was bothering him. It could have been the job…but there was a strange feeling in her gut that only increased when she saw Mal. Her big blue eyes looked exhausted, and she had small bags underneath them. Suzanne leaned in to hug her and was a bit worried when she felt her stiffen slightly under her embrace.

"Come on in." She finally said with a smile, trying desperately to ignore the nagging voice in her head that was screaming that she needed to talk to her friend, that something had happened to her.

:o:o:o:o

The group sat around Eames' table as they dug into the gorgeous mixed green salad with grapes and blue cheese that Mal had made, it paired wonderfully with the decadent and rich coq au vin, the sharpness of the blue cheese and the sweetness of the grapes cut through the unctuous fat of the rooster and the bacon. Dom had brought three bottles of a delicious Cote du Rhone wine to enjoy with the meal and as Suzanne took a sip of the peppery burgundy she found herself sighing gently.

A gentle squeeze on her thigh from underneath the table caught her attention and she looked over at Eames as he lifted his glass to obscure them, while he leaned over to her ear and whispered, "I must inform you that your kitchen skills are indeed deeply satisfying, love; and this is one of the best meals I have ever tasted. But please, I beg you, you have to stop making those little noises of yours, because I'm hard as a rock right now and I can't handle much more of it."

Suzanne blushed as she sipped her wine again, turning to look him right in the eyes as she let her own hand fall down between them covertly before reaching over to touch him with a teasing stroke. She bit her lip in almost sadistic glee when he closed his eyes and took a shaking breath in through his beautiful mouth. Oh she wanted to keep up the game and unzip his trousers right here at the table and give him a little payback for the dinner scene he'd done to her, but unfortunately she hadn't had the foresight to use a tablecloth and without one it was going to become very apparent what they were up to if she continued. So reluctantly she pulled her hand back and took another bite of her meal, enjoying it with a very quiet sigh, just loud enough for the man next to her to hear.

"So," Arthur spoke up with a sip of wine. "Goes without saying that I think we missed out on something incredible. It's a real disappointment."

"Well it would have gone without saying, Arthur," Eames drawled his voice slightly strained from the unbearable pressure in his pants. "But you have felt the need to bring it up, so again, we all thank you for that reminder."

Dom chuckled and finished his wine, pouring himself another glass. "Wasn't meant to be I guess. Another time maybe, I'm confident that the world of extraction and dreams is just beginning to be explored, and I know with company like you all it will eventually prove to be a success."

Suzanne watched as Mal's hands fidgeted at the table as her husband spoke, she'd barely eaten any of her meal and she seemed completely preoccupied. She froze in nervous shock when her friend drained her wine in two huge sips and reached into the pocket of her wool skirt to pull out the little metal top that was her totem and spin it on the table. Mal stared at the whirling toy for a long moment, her entire body tensing, until finally it began to lose momentum and loudly wobbled and stopped spinning. Mal relaxed the hard line of her shoulders and looked up at Suzanne with a genuine smile.

It was a simple action, but it scared her to death.

"How did those experiments go yesterday?" Arthur asked Dom with a nod.

"Interesting, we were able to actually get down almost three levels. But it is so damn unstable that we couldn't stay down very long. But I _know_ you can go further. It's hard to describe, but I almost _felt_ it."

"What the hell is further down?" Arthur questioned.

"Perhaps nothing," Dom shrugged, his elbows coming up to lean on the table as he continued. "But what if you could go down so far that you tap completely into your mind, to find a place of raw, infinite subconscious; pure creation with unlimited possibilities."

Eames sipped his drink and took a deep breath, "You are talking about Limbo, mate. There's a guy in Switzerland doing research on it, all off the books of course. But there are some serious questions about time dilation down there. That's dangerous stuff."

Suzanne turned to look at her companion, experiencing just another facet of his personality. She's seen him be the snarky joker, the boisterous life-of-the-party, the lascivious and lustful lover, the cultured bohemian, and now she was meeting the sensible intellectual- and it might have been the most pleasing side to date. She listened in rapt fascination as he conversed with Arthur and Dom seemingly above their level; he must have gone to a University _somewhere_. It was just another layer, another face that she would get to discover…and that made her smile.

"What type of warp?" Arthur asked.

"Could be centuries, could be infinite from what I've read," Eames shrugged finishing his drink and pouring another, topping off Suzanne's as well. "The issue is in the psychological implications. Can you imagine living a lifetime, creating a world for yourself and then waking up only minutes later; to be an old soul thrown back into a young body? You'd end up with scrambled eggs for brains, man. No thank you, I'll hang out on the upper levels."

Dom frowned at him. "I find it hard to believe you of all people would walk away from that sort of creativity, Eames."

"The urge to destroy is also a creative urge." He replied taking another sip. "Keep that in mind, Cobb."

"Picasso?" Arthur interjected out of the blue.

Eames clapped, "Thank you for your contribution, Arthur! You get a gold star today."

The thin man frowned and Suzanne took that as the cue to begin clearing dinner plates. Mal stood and joined her at the sink as they started to clean up from everything and left the men to their discussion.

Suzanne filled the sink and looked over at her friend, "Are you alright?"

Mal smiled, the same warm expression she'd come to know so well and turned to her, "I am just a little tired. I didn't sleep well last night; James was very cranky I think he is homesick."

"Oh, just making sure."

"Don't worry about me," She sighed, looking over her shoulder and scooting closer. "Now about you, I have never seen you look like this before- and I didn't even think Eames was capable of looking like this. You are in love with him, aren't you?"

Suzanne looked at Mal, catching him out of her peripheral vision. "Completely, like a fucking idiot." She admitted with a laugh, "It is the stupidest thing in the world. I have food in my refrigerator at the apartment that I have known longer than him. It's not love right? Please give me some common sense advice here."

"I am sorry to be the one to tell you this," Mal answered, her blue eyes serious. "But there is no sense in love. You can't put it into the neat little boxes with labels and instructions like you do to everything else in your life. Do you know what Dom said to me the very first night we met?"

"The line that he dreamt about you?" Suzanne needled.

"No," Mal elbowed her sharply with a laugh. "That was when he proposed. Anyhow, before you ruin the moment, he told me that being in love was like being half of a whole. That it was like waiting for a train together, with no idea where the train would take you, but it wouldn't matter where you were going- because you'd be together."

The words hit her like a ton of bricks raining down on her head. She was right…_oh God_, she was in love.

"I'll take that silence as a sign that you would be standing at the depot station with Mr. Eames without another thought."

"Yeah," Suzanne answered quietly.

Mal smiled and leaned over to kiss her on the cheek, "If I am not your maid-of-honor at your wedding I will hate you forever."

"Ugh, can we not jump the gun, Mom."

"I'm just putting it out there." She answered, "Just so you don't have to think about it."

"Whatever." Suzanne scoffed, sticking out her hip to bump her friend hard with the generous curve of her backside playfully.

:o:o:o:o

The five of them sat around for another few hours talking about everything from architecture to movies over more wine, Suzanne's simple warm pear and apple tart, and the obnoxious assortment of chocolates and pastries that Mal had brought from a local bakery. There was more than once that they were absolutely in stitches laughing about something- and when Eames had Arthur red-faced and in tears with hysterical laughter thanks to a couple raunchy jokes the rest of them lost it. Suzanne couldn't help but look around the table and wish she had a camera.

A little after ten the Cobbs and Arthur finally decided to call it a night and after a companionable handshake and sedate hugs, Suzanne stood at the door with her arms around Mal in a tight embrace. She was going to miss her so much, this entire vacation was supposed to be an excuse to spend time together and they had barely been able to visit.

"I'll miss you," Suzanne said with a small sniffle trying not to cry in front of the crowd. "It was so good to see you again."

Mal rubbed her back in a soothing circle, "We'll see one another soon. I am never more than a phone call away, you know that. Besides, you have almost eight months of freedom and Southern California is going to be a lot warmer than Paris very soon. Maybe you and a guest can come enjoy the sunshine together."

She laughed at the teasing tone and finally let her go with unimaginable reluctance, watching from the top of the stairs like a little girl watching as she slowly walked down the winding staircase, and catching one last wave as Mal looked up through the center of the spiral, her big beautiful blue eyes smiling as she blew her a kiss and waved good-bye, disappearing just a moment later.

_"We'll see one another soon..."_ Her voice echoed in Suzanne's ears as she closed the apartment door, and it seemed at the time to be nothing less than a promise, but nothing in life is ever as it seems.


	15. Chapter 14

**AN: Ah, so I have to admit I was petrified when I wrote this. There is so much that happens here and I wasn't sure what I had in my mind would translate…but I digress…I think I have it how I want it…and I hope that it is received as well as I wanted. **

**Goes without saying that these two are involved in activities of the adult variety…so…yeah, warnings and all that.**

**Please, please read and review. Thank you, thank you to those who have, you make a wannabe writer so happy.**

**Without further ado…**

* * *

_Paris, France  
_

_Fall 2007_

* * *

Suzanne slowly shut the door and leaned her forehead against it for the moment. Her mind was pleasantly swimming from three or four over filled glasses of wine, but there was still something that was nagging incessantly at her conscience about Mal. She couldn't place it…and for the life of her she couldn't explain it, but it was there just the same. It was ridiculous, she _knew_ it was ridiculous. Everything was fine, and she needed to calm down. Mal was going home with her family and she'd see her in a month or two. Finally Suzanne took a deep breath and turned around slowly to see Eames leaning against the table, his arms crossed over his muscular chest and a predatory look in his darkening grey eyes.

"I hope I have you all to myself now, love." His voice was low and husky as he stood up and strolled towards her, stopping at the small closet he kept his robes in the to pull out a small white bag puffed up with a tuft of black tissue paper. He half heartedly hid the package behind his back while a slow, seductive smile pulled at his full lips, "Because I have a little something _very _special that I wanted to give to you."

She quirked an eyebrow, completely confused as he closed the distance between them, standing very close and allowing his warm, delicious, musky scent to waft into her nose. "What are you talking about?"

"Well," he sighed dramatically, "I happened to take a tiny excursion to _Aubade_ yesterday morning before I swung around to your place. After our hot breakfast in the sun I just felt completely inspired…and perhaps a wee bit naughty, so I picked up a thing or two that I think we'd both enjoy."

Suzanne smiled playfully as he handed her the pretty white bag with its black satin ribbon handles. "You ran out all the way across the city just to buy me lingerie?"

Eames clicked his tongue and shook his head, "Darling that's like calling champagne, _wine. _That isn't _lingerie_; it's the finest French lace, formed into a bit of tasty erotica that had me one step away from a public indecency charge when I thought about it on you. Actually, I intended to give it to you last night, but for some reason I couldn't manage to think straight."

A red blush formed on her face as he stared pointedly at her mouth, as if silently reminding her of the reason for his clouded mind. "Oh," was all she could answer. "Thank you, I hope it wasn't too pricey." She was starting to babble as he seemed to shift his weight and press into her further, the waves of utter masculinity just radiating from him.

He leaned in and brought his lips to hers, teasing them with the barest of touches. "It was _obnoxiously_ expensive for the amount of fabric," He breathed as his tongue slipped out to taste her with a gentle swipe. "And I'll probably to tear it to shreds tonight." Suzanne's eyes fluttered closed as she felt a flood of warmth rush through her body and wetness pool between her thighs.

"Now, I want you to go into the bathroom and change. Make yourself beautiful, take all the time you need, and I'll be waiting for you out here when you are done."

She nodded dumbly and turned around to walk into the small bathroom, waiting until the door closed to release the breath that she had been holding in a trembling exhale. He was going to _own_ her after tonight, she just knew nothing would ever be the same.

:o:o:o:o

It took her almost five minutes before she finally stepped away from the door and walked to the sink, the _very_ same one she'd been bent over earlier, and opened the pretty bag. She reached in to pull out a beautiful bit of delicate black lace that was impossibly soft and she identified it as a bra and something that should have resembled tiny panties…but it had a rather unique little tie that she could only imagine what it would look like on.

Suzanne pulled off her clothes and folded them neatly before she slid on the bra, it was comfortable, and despite the fact that the straps were a little small for normal wear it supported her full, round breasts perfectly. The pure lace cups were practically transparent, and her pink nipples, that were beginning to become pronounced and hard in anticipation, were easily seen through it.

The underwear took a little more bravery. The bikini cut was very small and fit normally in the front, but the back was what was interesting. The waist band tied into a bow, but what made her eyes bug out was the circular cut out on her ass that dipped _very_ low. And thanks to the generous curve of her behind, it was emphasized even more. She blushed knowing that if the waist was untied, it would leave everything exposed to him.

But my God, the thought of how he would respond to seeing her in it made her heart race. It made her feel so sexy, feminine, and powerful that a man like Eames seemed to love every inch of her toned, curvy body. He certainly kept her verbally informed of his enjoyment during the act…that man could write the definitive book about talking dirty in the bedroom. With a smile, she fluffed up her hair and touched up on her makeup. Deciding at the last minute to forgo the red lipstick, it wouldn't do to make that much of a mess- another time perhaps.

After turning side to side in the mirror and examining her figure from every angle, she bravely turned to the door, taking a deep breath and once again making a mental note to thank her mother for the waxing prank before slowly grabbing the handle and turning the door knob.

:o:o:o:o

The entire apartment was darkened as she stepped out, but he'd made the point of re-lighting all of the candles from earlier, and they cast just enough of a low, flickering light to bathe the room in a warm glow. Her eyes moved to the massive, luxurious bed in the center of it all where Eames was waiting for her, just as he promised. His tanned, muscular, beautifully inked body was stretched out in all its glory, completely naked, primed and ready.

Suzanne felt her heart race and her hands shake under the dark fire she saw in his eyes as that same predatory smile crept across his face, his full lips turning at the corners. She suddenly felt a strange sense of irony and almost déjà vu at the situation; it was as if she was mortal Psyche approaching the bed of the God of love himself.

A delicious shiver raced up her spine, and a second thought quickly followed that gave her the bravery to square off her shoulders, Psyche may have started as a mortal, but before it all ended he'd turned her into a Goddess in her own right.

She tossed her hair from side to side and stared right back at him with a seductive smile. "Was it worth your money, Mr. Eames?"

He chuckled quietly as he made a show of letting his hand come up from the bed to take his straining hardness into his hand and give in a long, slow caress from base to tip. "Every bloody fucking cent," His voice was a barely audible whisper, full of lust. "Why don't you turn around love, let me see all of you."

Suzanne complied, slowly turning around, making sure to arch her back and push out first her breasts, and then her ass. She looked back over her shoulder at him when she heard him growl appreciatively and took notice that his hand was now moving up and down with a purpose. "Tsk, tsk," She scolded playfully, reiterating his own words, "I don't think you should be able to play with your hands if I can't play with mine."

"Mmm, it's just to get a perfect memory of the moment," Eames countered. "So every single time I close my eyes to do as much as blink, all I'll see is that ass of yours wrapped up like a damn present on Christmas morning… come here."

She walked over to the bed and knelt down as he rose to meet her, letting his hands tangle into her thick, ebony locks and pulling her mouth down to meet his in a deep searching kiss. Suzanne moaned as his tongue delved into her mouth to slowly tangle with hers, before he pulled her head back with a firm tug and let his pillow soft lips feast on the graceful column of her neck with hot licks and bites.

"I'm going to eat you for hours," He murmured in her ear as he took the lobe in his teeth. "And then make love to you until neither one of us can move."

His words almost alone almost sent her over the edge. Suzanne moaned as he deftly turned her and slowly dipped her back until she was lying on the bed. He rose up on his knees above her and stared down, remembering his earlier fantasy upon meeting her of having her just like this. Her hair fanned out across his pillows, her bright green eyes dark with need and her succulent body just waiting for his touch.

He had to give himself credit for the impulse purchase as well; five hundred dollars never looked so fucking incredible as that black lace looked against her skin. Her legs fell open as if unconsciously her body was responding to the desire for him alone. Eames took a deep breath to slow the raging storm of his need, knowing that if he put his mouth on her right now he'd lose it like a school boy and they'd both be more than a little disappointed.

He started at her lips, tasting them gently before moving down to her throat, trailing his tongue down inch by inch, keeping his weight off of her…loving the way she leaned into his mouth for more contact. He smiled against her skin as he reached the thin lace cups of her bra, nuzzling against the eager nipple that was straining for his attention. He took it into his mouth teething it, the diaphanous material offering precious little in the way of a barrier for either of them.

She whined at the sharp jolt of pleasure mixed with pain, and he took it as a signal to repeat the same action on her other peak before moving to the flat plane of her stomach, and then lower still to her creamy thighs- then finally to where the lace covered mound beckoned him with almost a magnetic pull. The fabric was the same here as it was on the bra- thin- and when he leaned in to kiss her flesh the same way that he did her mouth, he could taste her sweetness already soaking through the fabric.

Suzanne arched her back and closed her eyes as he moved between her legs, feeling his lips and tongue moving against her in a teasing kiss. The lace provided an odd bit of friction that rubbed up against the delicate little pearl at the top of her center that was steadily swelling and becoming unbearably sensitive. It was just what she wanted, and somehow not enough. Her insides began twisting and drawing tight, the inner walls of her sex crying out- almost weeping in urgency, needing to be touched.

She opened her eyes to look at him and was transfixed to see him working on her, his eyes closed, growling against her body in rapture as his hips moved, rubbing his cock slowly against the bed. It sent her over the edge, she gasped out wordlessly as her clit throbbed, sending a weak climax rolling through her body and setting her skin on fire.

But instead of a release of pressure, her orgasm ratcheted her arousal up another notch. Her flesh now screamed out for him and she became possessed like a wild thing that could be tamed by nothing other than his body. Suzanne reached down to grab his hair, running her nails along his scalp before fisting a handful and tugging a little harder than necessary.

Eames snarled at the stab of pain, his eyes locking onto the desperate almost feral look in hers as she pulled him up. "I want it now." She demanded, "I want you to turn me over and take me from behind." Her chest was heaving and he had to bite down on his cheek to the point of drawing blood to stop the way his whole body reacted to her words. She flipped herself over and bowed her head, letting her back arch into that primitive slope that was hardwired for animal mating. "I want it hard baby, I need you so bad," She mumbled in a breathless whine, over and over again as she leaned down further, pushing the lace clad perfection of her ass up at him. "Make me come."

An almost gleeful smile spread across his face at her tone. This was the same tame, buttoned down woman he met only days earlier. The same one who ran away from him at the museum after a little bit of teasing, and nearly had a heart attack the first night in his flat when he climbed into bed with her. Now she was a force of wanton passion- lustful, naughty and completely uninhibited.

His hand came up to slowly pull at the bow that kept the scrap of fabric on her body, hissing as it fell away and the sight of her soaking wet core was revealed to him. Her pink folds were swollen and everything was glistening with slick moisture, calling to every part of him that was a man.

"Ask me again. _Beg_ me for it, love." Eames may have been the one giving orders, but the tone of his voice was anything but dominant, it was a desperate hungry plea.

Suzanne looked back at him, her lips wet from her tongue and her eyes hooded and wanting. "Please, _Eames_," She moaned, "Take me, all of me, however you want it. I'm _yours_. I belong to you."

The words stopped him dead in his tracks.

A strange strangled feeling seized his chest with almost unbearable pressure, and he suddenly found it hard to breathe. He looked at her beautiful face, and something deep inside him let go. This perfect, pure, unimaginably sweet creature in front of him had just taken the one thing he'd never thought anyone capable of finding. In that one plea she had stolen his heart- he fucking _loved_ her.

Eames stared down at his large tanned hands as they splayed out on the soft porcelain skin of her hips. He swallowed hard at the sight and he actually felt unworthy to touch her. He was nothing better than a thief and she was perfection in flesh, innocent and real. It was as if an angel had flown too close to the fire and been tempted by the devil himself, she'd fall from grace and he would forever corrupt her for his own selfish desires.

His hands were shaking slightly and Suzanne seemed to sense instantly that something had changed. She turned around to meet him, rising to her knees, her green eyes staring into his grey ones, and there was nowhere to hide. She reached behind her back and undid the small clasp on the back of her bra, gently pulling it off and wordlessly throwing it off the bed before she did the same thing to the panties that were already half hanging off her body. Her hands came up to rest on his chest and Eames closed his eyes at the sensation of her hands trailing up to cup his cheeks.

"What's wrong?" She whispered as she leaned in to kiss him gently before pulling him down so he was lying on top of her.

He couldn't help himself; she wound her long legs around his waist and his hips instantly rocked his achingly hard member against her warm, wet center, coating it in the honeyed nectar before sliding into her depths in one long stroke. Suzanne keened out in a loud wail and he could already feel her inner walls tightening up around him- all it would take was one or two hard, fast hits and she'd come completely undone. But instead of thrusting he wrapped his arms under her shoulders and settled his chest on hers so he was touching her completely, and then slowly rocked his hips into her, driving as deep as he could with each stroke before holding it for a heartbeat and repeating the motion.

She stared up at him, so close in the flickering candle light, and watched as his pewter eyes drank her in. His mouth was hovering right over hers and it was so close she could taste his breath and his musky smell as he continued to work her impossibly slowly. Her heart pounded and emotion began to choke her throat, something had changed between them. The very air in the room that only minutes before had been charged with animal lust was now surging with something else, something infinitely more powerful.

"Be with me always," He whispered against her lips in an impassioned plea. "Take any form- drive me _mad_…"

Suzanne felt the tears come as a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth; he would pick _this_ moment to quote Heathcliff. The words spilled out in a shuddering breath before she could censor or stop them, her heart for once overriding her brain.

"I love you, Eames."

His eyes closed at her confession and his movement stilled. Suzanne suddenly felt a tingle of cold fear wash across her skin at the thought that she had just ruined everything between them with her stupid mouth.

"Edward." He said quietly.

Her eyes widened in shock and she stared back at him, looking at his handsome face and into his eyes as if seeing him for the first time. There were no walls, no snarky or sarcastic defenses to hide behind; it was just the two of them, laid bare before one another in every conceivable way.

"Say it again," Eames asked in a choked voice. "Please."

"I love you, Edward." Suzanne answered.

He dropped his head to bury his face into the crook of her neck and held on to her as he rose up slightly on his knees and began to thrust hard and deep into her body, his solid muscular frame trembling as he pounded her into the mattress hard enough to take her breath away. It was minutes before her entire body began to come undone, a hot tingle began in the depths of her center, focusing all of her energy on that one little place, the same way an ocean tsunami pulls out the tide for miles as the wave builds to unimaginable heights... and then it all crashed down at once. Her orgasm slammed into her with the power of a lightning bolt, the electric current shorting out her brain and leaving her wailing out in passionate screams as her insides throbbed in an almost painful clenching wave.

Eames groaned low in her ear as he somehow sped up his already brutal pace, pulling her through her aftershocks and into the abyss of another all-consuming climax before he threw back his head and roared out his own end, his cock pulsing as every last ounce of his soul drained into her body with his seed. Completely spent he collapsed into a boneless heap on top of her, unable to mind how heavy he must feel.

Suzanne was numb as her body still tingled and shook from the power of her release. Her mind was clear and she smiled as Eames finally lifted up his head to look at her. She had told him that she loved him, lowered her defenses, and like falling to her knees last night she'd never felt more powerful and satisfied. He hadn't said it back, but at the moment she wasn't sure that she cared.

He let a slow breath fall from his full lips as he rested his forehead against hers, as if once again knowing exactly what was swirling in her thoughts, "'Till I die, love."

His grey eyes were calm as he leaned in and took her lips in another slow, drugging kiss that promised the night's activities were far from over.

* * *

**Ah, we have Mr. Eames' name! It is purely a tribute to the insanely amazing man who plays him, and I think it fits nicely XD. **

**For those who are also a teeny bit obsessed with said individual, (because, of course, **_**I'm**_** not ; ) ) there should be another little something that you should catch here that will eventually show itself…**

**Mwah! **


	16. Chapter 15

**AN: Purely a chapter of lemon fluff for the weekend…and I caution that there are definitely sightings of something nefarious and dragon-like working and lurking in the background. Paradise can only last as long as the people that live there are content to be there. There is also a lot in here that will mean quite a bit in the future, so keep that in mind while Eames is trying to distract you ; ).**

**And I freely admit that like Suzanne I am from New England…so I have the same issues she does XD. (Both accent and my lobster snobbery. lol)  
**

**Please, please read and review! Thank you, and love ya!  
**

* * *

_Paris, France  
_

_Fall 2007_

* * *

Suzanne wasn't a morning person by any stretch of the imagination; but she always had somewhere to be or something to do that normally had her waking up every day earlier than she would have liked. However, as of late, it was safe to say that rising early definitely hadn't been the case, evidenced by the fact that this was the _twelfth_ morning in a row she rolled over lazily and opened her eyes well after eleven.

The late October light was weakly filtering in from the skylight overhead, and she buried her nose into the soft cranberry colored pillow to take in a delicious breath of Eames' cologne. She went to sit up and instantly his strong arms shot out from underneath the comforter to pull her back against his warm chest as he wrapped the downy blankets tight around them to ward off the fall chill in the air.

"Not time to get up I'm afraid, darling." He mumbled sleepily into her ear as he held her close, kissing the exposed skin he could find with gentle pecks.

Suzanne smiled as she wiggled her butt into the cradle of his hips, biting her lip when she felt him half harden at her attention, "Mmm, are you sure? It seems like part of you isn't so sleepy, baby."

Eames chuckled as he pressed himself firmly against her. "He's only halfway there, love; look at him, the poor thing is practically comatose."

She sighed dramatically as she rolled over to stare at him; his normally gelled hair was plastered down on his forehead and it made him look so much younger, almost innocent- if it wasn't for the dirty thoughts that were almost visible in his half closed grey eyes.

"I'm very concerned about this Edward," she mocked a serious tone. "If we are having performance issues already, I believe that I am well within the satisfaction guarantee period to refund for another model. I wonder if that guy from the bar you scared off is still available."

He frowned at her use of his given name and the slight to his sexual prowess, in an instant he rolled over and she was pinned on her back with her arms drawn up on either side of her head. "Now _Annie_, I don't think that's a fair assessment to make. I think your data points are skewed." He leaned his face down to the smooth skin of her breast, letting his three-day-old stubble graze it before he took the rosy peak of her nipple between his teeth with a playful tug, grinning as she gasped out at the sensation. "Because I think you'll find it_ quite_ difficult to find another man who can make you come so hard you scream to God for respite, and then keep fucking you right into another orgasm without slowing for second, don't you think?"

Suzanne's mouth fell open at his lusty words and she bit on her lip, unable to suppress the wave of moisture that flooded in between her thighs instantly making her wet. "True," She answered slyly. "That is a satisfactory argument."

"And for the record," He continued as he leaned in to kiss her deeply, "I'm exhausted because you rode me like a bloody mad-woman for almost two hours last night, you little minx. I challenge any man to stare at your perfect body moving on them and not lose it in a second. Do you have _any_ idea the concentration that took?"

She laughed at him and leaned her head up to take his full lips in another kiss, relishing the feeling of the plump skin against her own mouth. "You love me for every minute of that." She murmured as she pulled away, staring at him with an honest look of love in her shining green eyes.

"Mmm, 'till I die, love." He replied as he trailed a hand down to cup her cheek affectionately and kiss her again as his hips shifted, rubbing his long, thick length against her damp, steadily heating core. Suzanne gasped as his cock hardened to absolute perfection, the swelling flesh teasing her own sensitive little bud, "Ah, ha, look at who's finally awake, darling. Maybe you should give him a little kiss good morning and apologize for hurting his feelings."

:o:o:o:o

It took Suzanne the better part of the early afternoon as they soaked in the tub to convince Eames to get dressed and take a walk. Since that incredible night almost two weeks ago when she'd taken a leap of faith and confessed her feelings, they had barely left the apartment. The two of them had spent days without bothering to even put clothes on, making love on every surface they could find. The bed, the tub, against the wall and of course on that butcher-block table in the kitchen; over and over again until they were so exhausted they both collapsed boneless into delicious sleep in the early morning hours, only to wake up a little while later and begin all over again. In fact the only time they had managed to leave was to go to Suzanne's apartment to get a couple things, and even there they'd ended up in the bathtub…thanks to Eames bringing along the silly rubber duck.

But today she had her heart set on a hearty recipe of her Memere's for a peppery seafood stew to ward off the rapidly cooling Parisian weather. It was Friday, which meant the city's best seafood market, a la Pecherie Dieppoise, near the financial center at the Place de la Bourse was open all afternoon.

"Look at the weather, love," Eames petulantly whined as he kissed her, trying to move her back to the bed. "It's drizzling rain and freezing cold, we'll catch our death out there."

"I want to cook for you," She answered, deftly dodging his questing hands and grabbing a pair of her plain cotton underwear and a sensible bra. "We never did get to enjoy that coq au vin naked, let me make you dinner and bake you something nice and sweet. What do you say to a little warm apple pie, hmm?"

"I _do_ enjoy eating your pie," He waggled his eyebrows suggestively. "I'll bite on the offer for a stroll love, on the condition that you let me snack a little before dinner."

Suzanne rolled her eyes and slid on a faded pair of jeans and a soft, olive colored cable knit turtle-neck sweater and her plain leather flats. "I'm going to do my make-up, think you can manage to pull an outfit together?"

"Yes, darling," Eames sighed, "As you wish."

:o:o:o:o

It was a miserable day in the city, but the two lovers didn't seem to notice. Suzanne leaned her head against Eames' shoulder, enjoying the delicious warmth of his body and the way his spicy scent clung to the navy colored pea-coat he was wearing. The suave Brit was absolutely gorgeous, even the pink shirt she absolutely loathed did nothing to dim the utter animal magnetism she felt standing at his side. He let his hand rest on her hip, holding her close as they walked through the open air market.

"I forgot how bloody awful Paris is in the fall," He sighed, leaning over to kiss her forehead. "What do you say to a little traveling, love? You've got plenty of time left and there is a world of sunny places to explore."

She shrugged, "Where? I was thinking we could go see Mal and Dom in California soon, but she hasn't returned any of my calls. I guess they're both busy."

The fact that she hadn't talked to her friend in two weeks bothered her more than she wanted to let on. It wasn't like Mal not to call her back. Perhaps if she hadn't heard from her in another week she'd give a quick call to her mother and father just to make sure that everything was alright.

"We could always enjoy the old world for a while longer before we venture stateside." He suggested as his grey eyes scanned across the crowded market. "Hmm, what about Santorini or some place in the Greek Isles? I could definitely deal with a week or so of stretching out in the sun. Maybe we rent a little open air villa that overlooks the sea, spend our days drinking wine, eating well and making love."

Suzanne laughed and bit her lip as she reached across her body to the hand on her hip to twine their fingers together, "Isn't that what we have been doing here?"

"True," Eames agreed with a sly grin. "But now we can add a whole new culture to our list. Perhaps Athens, Rome, Florence and Venice after that; we'll fuck our way through classical antiquity. We can live like traveling gypsies, constantly moving and exploring, pure excitement all the time. I can see it now, darling; at night, under the watch of the stars and the light of the moon, that beautiful body of yours moving on mine in rhythm with the ocean waves. The world will be our little playground."

Her face flushed as she closed her eyes as his silver tongue convinced her of things she never knew she'd even want, imagining the entire scenario in vivid, delicious detail. "My _God_, I love you, _and_ that insanely creative imagination of yours, Eames." She breathed in a husky whisper. "I'll start looking for a place in Santorini as soon as we get back."

:o:o:o:o

After loading them down with bags full of the best looking fresh seafood she could get her hands on, including mussels, clams, langoustines, and white fish; Suzanne dragged him to a fruit stand for apples, a boulangerie for a crusty and still warm baguette, and lastly into a grocery store where she could grab some heavy cream, butter, cinnamon, tomato sauce, clam juice, potatoes and a huge bushel of herbs.

The weather seemed to be intent on proving Eames right, getting colder and colder as they ran their errands, and by the time that they made it back to his flat a little before four, her pale face was bright red from the biting wind and icy drizzle. She shivered all over as Eames cranked up the heat in the place and rubbed his hands together.

"Holy Christ," Suzanne huffed out loud as she put the bags in the kitchen and shook out her rain dampened wool coat. "It's wicked friggin' cold out all of a sudden, huh?"

Eames froze in mid-step and turned around to look at her with a completely puzzled look on his handsome face. His full lips split into a huge grin and he threw back his head in a loud cackle of laughter. "You did _not_ just say that!" He giggled pointing at her playfully as his eyes filled with tears. "Jesus love, that was absolutely hysterical. Do it again."

"What!?" Suzanne answered crossing her arms and getting defensive. "I'm from Massachusetts, I have an accent. Sue me." It was something that she normally took extra pains to hide, knowing that the working class accent of most of her family sounded like nails on a chalkboard to most people. But after a few cocktails or when she was really relaxed it just popped right out of her mouth, and God forbid if she spent an extended amount of time at home, she was "pahkin' the cah" in no time.

He laughed again, before his face fell into a straight look, "Yea, a wickkit bad one too." The way that his normally musical voice suddenly transformed into a flat intentionally dumb sounding American accent had Suzanne smiling in spite of herself.

"Ha, bloody, ha." She mocked as she stuck out her tongue at him. "Keep it up, _Eddie_ _darling, _and I'll keep my pie to myself."

"Ah, you wound me." Eames laughed, feigning pain and raising his hands in surrender, "I'll behave I promise. If a Brit knows anything it's not to rile a yank like yourself."

"Good." Suzanne answered, trying to keep a straight face. "Now, strip and get into your robe, I want to stare at you while I slave away in the kitchen in that hideous salmon shirt you are wearing."

Eames growled in appreciation and he didn't even bother to move, as he shucked his clothes in the middle of the floor, sliding his shirt over his head and walking over to her completely stark naked. "Bra and knickers off love, I want this rubbing all over every part of you."

:o:o:o:o

Suzanne fumbled with the small spindly legged langoustines, frowning at the fact that she really would have liked a nice fat Maine lobster for the stew. It suddenly sparked a huge craving for lobster and butter…maybe Eames would be interested in a trip up the craggy coastline one of these days. It was, after all where she had always envisioned her little cottage to be. She threw them into the bubbling pot and turned around to look at Eames who was intently looking at the _London Financial Times_, specifically at a huge article about the funeral of their ex-would-be employer, William Thomas Graham. She noted the time on the stove and knew that the little crustaceans had to cook for only five minutes or so, before grabbing a paring knife and an apple to start peeling one for the pie.

Absently her eyes scanned the large black and white pictures, noticing that she recognized several of the people that were prominently photographed. One was the CEO of Cobol Engineering, David Woodruff, and beside him was Maurice Fisher, head of the Fischer Morrow Energy conglomerate and his son Robert. She had the uncomfortable occasion to meet the elder Fischer once last year when she was at a business meeting in Moscow with the Russian Government for future drilling projects. Now, Suzanne wasn't intimidated by anyone, but the way that the slender man with his stern face commanded everyone around him, the Russian President included, with an air of uncompromising control had left her stone faced, silent and terrified. He looked like he was somehow ill though, thinner and even gaunter than she remembered him to be.

And a few feet behind them, Proclus CEO and currently a man that she loathed more than anything, Tadashi Saito.

"Ugh," Suzanne snorted as she pulled over a bowl and began to quickly slice up the apple into perfect slivers for the pie. "That arrogant asshole, Saito cost me my entire Pacific contract last year."

"Is that right?" Eames murmured as he leaned up to kiss the exposed skin on her shoulder that had slipped out of the shirt collar. "I heard his company had a nasty little computer virus attack them not long after that. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, love?"

She grinned at the fact that Eames had somehow been privy to information that no one outside of Saito's company, and the individual who downloaded the perfectly constructed, beautifully engineered Trojan Horse that completely obliterated Proclus' internal computer server, would know. "Not at all," She sighed leaning over to kiss him as she continued to cut the apple, "I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Of course you have no idea, my naughty girl." He smirked and raised his eyebrow. "Shouldn't you be minding that knife a wee bit, darling? I'd hate to see you lose a finger."

Suzanne stared back at her hands, "What? Oh, I've been doing this since I was seven, I'm good, don't worry. Actually you should see me and my mother on the day before Thanksgiving doing this after a few glasses of wine. It's like a badly subtitled kung fu movie. My dad's always scared he's going to get knifed by accident."

Eames laughed, "Well I'll get to see it this year, won't I?"

That stopped her in her tracks. Suzanne stared down at him for a moment to see if he was joking, swallowing hard and her heartbeat kicking up when she saw nothing but sincerity in his grey eyes. "You want to come spend the holidays with my family?"

"Am I not invited?" He questioned with a feigned offense, "Because I am rather sure that if I ask your mother on Sunday _she'll _invite me."

She couldn't stop the huge smile that split her face from ear to ear. "I'd love to take you home." Her words were a confession of honest warmth and affection. "And for the record, my mother would invite anyone to our house for the holidays. She has this insane compulsion to make sure that people are stuffed full, no matter how much they tell her they can't eat any more. So I'd probably start dieting now so you can handle it."

Eames reached up to gently cup her face and bring it down to his mouth for a slow, deep kiss. "I look forward to meeting your family, darling. As I've said before, I'm terribly curious to learn everything about you that I can't read in a file."

:o:o:o:o

An hour and a half later, the seafood stew was bubbling pleasantly on the stove and the flaky, golden apple pie was cooling on the counter. Suzanne stirred the tomato based liquid, checking to make sure that the tomato flavor and salty tang from the clam juice was perfectly balanced and the potatoes were tender before she started adding in the fish to cook, not long now. The entire meal was coming together perfectly, and she walked to the fridge to pull out the heavy cream she'd bought and a bit of sugar to make some fresh whipped cream to top off the dessert. It was definitely going to be a workout; Eames didn't have an electric mixer, so her only available tool was a small whisk that he used to scramble eggs with.

She sighed and switched hands as the repetitive motion of beating the damn liquid was beginning to hurt her arm; while Eames looked on with fascination, as if he'd never seen anything like it before. About five minutes later she flipped up the whisk to illustrate the perfectly fluffy consistency to her eager audience. "Ooh, could I have some scotch?" She asked as she snapped her finger.

"Of course, are we drinking it with the meal, love?" He questioned as he stood up and walked to one of the kitchen cupboards to pull out the bottle of Macallan Gold that he'd served her the first night she came to his door.

"In a matter of speaking," She answered as she took the bottle and gently dropped a generous dose of the golden liquor into the whipped cream, folding it in with a good amount of sugar before reaching into the bowl to take a bit onto her finger and put it into her mouth to taste it. "Whiskey and apples are an age old and incredible combination." The impromptu lesson on flavor pairing was over the minute she looked up to see him staring at her mouth, and specifically the finger that she'd just made a show of sucking completely clean.

"I think I'd like a little taste too," Eames whispered, his voice was low and gravelly as he walked toward her, effectively backing her against the table. "Please."

Suzanne bit her lip as her breathing instantly sped up with her heartbeat. She dipped her finger into the bowl and held it to his mouth, gasping out loud as he took the slender digit in between his pillow soft lips, letting his warm tongue swirl around it with a gentle suckle of pressure before releasing it. His grey eyes burned into hers with the dark hunger that she loved more than anything. "I'm not sure it's sweet enough, love." He murmured as he reached down to grab the back of her thighs and lift her up to sit on the table, his fingers instantly going to the buttons of the shirt that covered her, making short work of the fabric.

She could feel her body ignite as he slid the shirt off her shoulders and dipped his finger in the bowl, bringing the fluffy bit of cream up and smearing it across the taut pink skin of her nipple. Before she could think he bent his head down to take a mouthful of the soft flesh, licking it completely clean with a growl of pleasure. He made a show of lifting his face up to meet hers and licking his lips slowly, "Mmm, now that was perfect. So sweet, I think I have a toothache."

Her face was flushed, but somehow after two weeks of being his lover, she was finally able to play somewhat on his level with lusty invitations and innuendo with confidence. "That's too bad, baby." She breathed as she reached into the bowl to take a little more and paint it in between her breasts with a slow swipe. "'Cause I was hoping you'd want that little snack now."

Eames smiled with a devilish gleam in his eyes as he reached down to untie his robe and shrug it off, his body already screaming for hers. His hands came up to palm her ass and lift it off the table and over the edge as he leaned over to let his tongue lick a wet trail between the two generous mounds of her breasts, lapping up everything she'd left for him. Suzanne threw her head back at the sensation and moaned as he brought her center to meet the hard, thick staff of his cock, rubbing it back and forth before letting the swollen tip of his head find the little spot that would give way to bliss and snapping his hips hard to spear her completely in one perfect thrust. They both cried out in unison at the unreal sense of completion, and Eames paused for a moment to look at the woman who was staring back at him with fire in her green eyes.

"Tell me." He commanded her as his hands tightened their grip on her soft, satiny flesh and he began to withdraw slowly, only to slam in deep again, pressing against the very door to her womb. "Tell me."

Suzanne was gasping and trembling already, after barely a touch, and she let her legs open wider to give him everything as she spoke with a tone filled with feeling, "I love you."

His eyes slid closed in satisfaction, as if her words were as much stimulation to his body as the slick flesh he was buried in. The peace only lasted for a heartbeat before he began to move her on his length, alternating fast thrusts of his hips and a slow methodical grind of his pelvis against the sensitive button that was always the key to her wails and screams. It had been scarcely two weeks, but he already knew every inch of her body as well as he knew his own, and with each masterfully orchestrated technique he drove them closer and closer to the end. Suzanne's back suddenly arched off the table into a graceful curve and her walls gripped him like a fist, before she cried out in blissful agony and her climax broke on him like a molten wave. His chest tightened at the sight and Eames let the indescribable emotion work with her inner walls to milk him into a mind-shattering orgasm.

They were both trembling as he set her down on the table, and instead of letting him pull away, Suzanne let her long legs come up to wrap around his waist and her arms around his neck to keep him close. She sighed in absolute contentment as she kissed him gently, scratching her nails through the short hair on the back of his head and holding him for a few more minutes in silence before she whispered. "Thank you for being an insufferable flirt from the first moment I saw you, Mr. Eames."

He chuckled quietly as he tangled his hands in her thick, ebony hair, "Thank _you_ for being the most absolutely delicious thing I have ever seen, heard, touched, tasted and smelled, darling. I couldn't have left you alone if I tried, I'm far too selfish a creature to have let anyone else even look at you."

"Then I am eternally grateful for your selfishness." She mumbled as she kissed him again. "And I never want you to leave me alone- ever."

"'Till I die, love," He answered, "Always."

:o:o:o:o

They ate their simple meal together wrapped in robes, enjoying the warmth of the stew and the heartiness of the bread with a glass of sharp white wine, occasionally feeding one another a mouthful until their stomachs were as sated as their bodies were. And later they curled up in bed and shared a little dessert before he took her in his arms and they both fell asleep exhausted from the day, only to wake again a few hours' later hungry for one another all over again.

It was raw, passionate and utterly perfect, and like a massive star that burns with the fiercest heat and light- it was on borrowed time before the universe would demand its destruction with all the blazing power of a supernova.


	17. Chapter 16

**AN: Welcome to the chapter that I have honestly dreaded for some time now…I just keep telling myself that Suzanne and Eames have quite a VERY long way to go. And that helps…somewhat.**

**Ugh…sorry in advance.**

**Please, please read and review…**

* * *

_Paris, France_

_Fall 2007_

* * *

_One week later…_

"STOP! _SERIOUSLY_! I SWEAR TO GOD!"

Suzanne screeched at the top of her lungs as Eames' strong fingers dug into the sensitive skin between her ribs with the accuracy of a surgeon, sending her into a screaming, wiggling fit as he tickled her unmercifully. She tried to get away, but the downy softness of the bed and the voluminous comforter had effectively trapped her. He finally relented when she managed to get her hand in between their naked bodies and take a firm hold of his half-hardened member with a threatening grip.

"Woah, now," Eames gasped out at the pressure, instantly freezing. Suddenly he realized that even though he may have been the one with the height, weight and positional advantage- with one grip the woman beneath him had all the power. "Careful love, you don't want to do anything rash that we'll both regret."

"Is that right, baby?" Suzanne grinned up at him with an evil smile as she started to stroke him gently, "I think you owe me an apology for waking me up like that. It was very rude of you, Edward."

He groaned at the friction of her palm along his length and let his hips begin to thrust in rhythm with her hand as he leaned over to take her ear lobe between his teeth. "You are right. I am so very sorry for my boorish behavior, darling. How about I eat that sweet little pussy of yours 'till you come to make it up to you, hmm?"

She gasped out in an excited moan as he kissed down her throat, trailing his tongue along the skin of her neck, her normally porcelain complexion stained a very light pink from the flush of her arousal. "God, yes, _please_."

Eames took his time moving down her body, licking, sucking and gently biting every bit of soft flesh he could find. From her full round, breasts, to the points of her hips and the endless plains of her thighs before he took a deep breath to savor her sweet smell and let his tongue snake out to grab one of her feminine folds like a warm treat and bring it between his lips. She whined in pleasure and a flood of the liquid honey he'd come to crave and know only Suzanne could make, rushed out to meet his tongue.

"What am I going to do without you for eight months?" Suzanne spoke in a low, husky whisper. "I'm going to die."

Eames chuckled against her scorching and swollen flesh, the vibrations tickling her already buzzing little pearl. "Phone sex, of course, darling- and I am rather certain they make webcams just for issues just like this."

"Oh, yessss," Suzanne hissed, feeling her entire body clench tight at the thought of getting off to him every night on the phone. Her heart began to race as she began to climb higher and higher, she lifted her hips to his pillow soft mouth, "I'm so close…"

Suddenly his phone began to ring.

Eames picked up his head out of instinct, and Suzanne glared at him. "Don't you dare!" He leaned back in with her not so subtle guidance before it began ringing again, and again, and again.

He finally pulled his head away with a growl, "I can't bloody fucking concentrate with that noise!" He stood up and stalked to the floor where he'd left his pants last night and picked up the offending device, snarling audibly when he looked at the caller ID.

"Honestly, Arthur, call me one more time when I'm fucking her and…"

His voice died and his entire face blanched white. Suzanne sat up in alarm as she watched him drop to a crouch and bring his hand up to cradle the side of his head. "No, mate, no…" She heard his tone choke up with emotion as he spoke, "When? What the hell happened?"

There was a long moment of silence as Arthur no doubt conveyed something awful to him, and Suzanne began to panic when she realized they were also talking about _her_.

"Yeah, I'll tell her. Thanks for the call, mate."

Eames remained with his head in his hands crouched on the balls of his feet and she slowly stood up to approach him when she noticed the slight hitch in the muscular curve of his shoulders. He was crying. Her hands shook as she knelt down in front of him to take his face in her hands, her chest getting tight as she stared at his grey eyes filled with tears.

"Baby," She whispered as she wiped the wet trails from his cheeks. "What happened?"

He blinked and took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, love. _God_, I'm so sorry."

"What are you talking about?" Suzanne could feel her heart roaring in her ears, and somehow- she knew. She knew what he was going to say even before the horrific words left his mouth, words that would forever change her life.

"Mallorie is dead."

"No." She breathed out as her entire body began to seize up in a tingling wave of shock. Her chest crushed with unbearable pressure as she had to fight the wave of overwhelming hysteria that gripped her. "No, no, no."

A wretched sob of pure anguish bubbled out of her gut, and she couldn't control herself was a tidal wave of agony barreled into her with the force of a freight train. Suzanne started to shake and cry, screaming out, "No", over and over again.

Eames was there in an instant, pulling her into his arms and lifting her to carry her to the bed. He sat down and cradled her like a child against the solid wall of his chest, rocking her gently with soothing words pressed to the crown of her head- telling her that it was alright, when he knew that it was a complete lie.

"How did it ha-happen?" Suzanne hiccupped through her tears.

"Shhh," he answered, kissing her hair. "You don't need to hear about that, love."

Her body stiffened and somehow anger overwhelmed her grief, she yanked away from him and stared sharply. "Tell me how I lost one of the people I loved more than anything, Edward- _now_."

He took a deep breath knowing it would destroy her. "She killed herself."

The words broke what was left of her heart into shattered pieces. "She wouldn't do that." Suzanne insisted her voice rising and becoming angry, "Something is wrong, she loved her children with everything she had- she'd never do that to them!"

Eames rubbed his face with his hand, "I'm sorry, sweetheart. There are no answers. She jumped out of the window of the hotel suite that she and Dom spent their anniversary in."

"_We stepped off a building together to take a leap of faith…"_

Suzanne instantly recalled what Mal had said when they were both under in the dream world, the first day that she was in Paris. When she was explaining to her how to "wake up" from a dream before the dosage on the PASIV machine allowed you to do so, she had said that her and Dom had walked off the top of a building. Had something happened with the experiments that they were doing together? Her behavior at dinner the last night that she was Paris certainly strange, the way she had treated Suzanne when they hugged, stiff and nervous, like she wasn't a friend that she had known for almost ten years…and her totem, she'd spun it at the table in plain sight of everyone.

Was she afraid that she was dreaming? That the world around her wasn't real?

The rage and pain that Suzanne felt in her heart now turned dark, focusing on the one man who would have continually pushed her friend to meddle in something so dangerous with no thought of the consequences that it could have- her husband. This was all Dom's fault.

"He did this to her," She whispered into the air as her hands clenched into fists.

"What are you talking about, love?" Eames asked his voice full of concern. "No one hurt her."

"Dom pushed her to this!" She snapped as she stood up from the bed, "She wasn't well when she was here in Paris, and I just ignored it because I was too busy being selfish."

He frowned instantly and stood up to cross the room, lifting her chin up to look at his face. "Suzanne, Dom wouldn't have done anything to hurt her- you know how much he loves her, she was everything to him. And as for you being 'selfish', that's just bollocks love, and you know it."

Tears came to her green eyes again and she began to cry, letting them stream down her face. "I…I'll never see her again." Her voice cracked and broke into sobs as the realization dawned on her with almost horrific and brutal realization.

"Shh," Eames soothed as he pulled her close, "Let's get you in bed, my sweet darling. Just let yourself relax."

Suzanne pulled the covers over her head and curled into a ball, trying to shut out the world and the unbearable heartache that was threatening to overtake everything about her. She wanted to hide, because she somehow knew that nothing about her life would ever be the same again.

:o:o:o:o

"Love?"

Eames' soft voice woke her out of an uneasy sleep hours later. The entire room was dark and she knew instantly that she'd slept the entire day away. Suzanne pinched the bridge of her nose and winced at the pressure behind her eyes, she had a massive headache from the constant crying and she felt utterly miserable. He crouched down at the side of the bed in his robe with a small glass of water and held out his palm with two while Tylenol pills for her.

"I have a nice cup of tea and some chicken soup for you," He spoke quietly.

"I'm not hungry." She answered in a dull, lifeless tone. "I just want to sleep."

He bit his lip and shook his head. "I need you to eat something, darling. You haven't eaten all day and I'm not going to let you run yourself down and fall ill. I don't even care if you have nothing but some of the broth and tea, but it has to be something."

Suzanne waited another moment and realized that he wasn't going anywhere until she did what he asked. As if agreeing with the sentiment her stomach let out a painful growl and she finally nodded and promised him that she would at least try to eat. She slid on her robe as Eames carefully placed a bowl of soup and a cup of steaming tea on the same silver serving tray that they had used for many enjoyable dinners and breakfasts on the balcony, before carrying it over to the bed. He placed it down gently and sat down next to her as she picked up the small bowl and took a tentative sip out of it without bothering to use a spoon.

"Better, love?" He asked quietly.

She nodded in answer as she quickly finished it all and put it back on the tray. "I'm tired." She mumbled as she stared down at her hands in her lap, "And I feel so goddamn lost."

"You'll come through; you are a strong one, darling." He answered with a sigh. "We'll leave for Santorini next week like we planned, and you'll go back to work in a few months and let your life go on. You know that Mal wouldn't have wanted you to dwell on this and forget to live your life."

Suzanne closed her eyes as a stunning realization hit her. She didn't want to trot all around the globe, moving with the breeze. She wanted to wake up in the morning with someone, have breakfast, go to work for eight hours and come home to them later. She wanted a life like her parents had when she grew up, a house in the suburbs, a car, and dog- _children _even. She wanted the life that Mal would never be able to have again.

"I'm not going back to work in Moscow." Suzanne breathed. "I want to have a normal life."

Eames sat up and looked at her as if he was alarmed at her revelation. "What on Earth are you talking about, love? You adore your work- not to mention the fact that you are bloody fantastic at it. Why give it up?!"

"Because that's not real life, Edward," She answered. "I'm thirty-two years old, before I know it I am going to be forty-two and I'll still no have roots of my own put down in any one place because I have spent too much time living out of a goddamn suitcase."

"God willing," He scoffed. "People like you and I crave the wonder and creativity of the world, darling. You'd suffocate in a June Cleaver nine to five life, you need to create and explore."

"Would you come with me if I asked?" The question was deliberate and unemotional, as her sharp green eyes turned to take him in. "If that was what I wanted- would just having me be enough for you?"

Eames jaw tensed at the question, and he took a deep breath and stared down at the bed, his grey eyes focused on his own hands as he spoke. "Yes."

Suzanne smiled sadly, curling back up under the blankets and reaching out to him. Eames responded instantly, wrapping her in his arms and holding her head against his chest as she dozed off into another lapse of fitful sleep.

:o:o:o:o

Eames lay wide awake hours later as the beautiful woman next to him was ensconced in what he could only imagine to be a very restless slumber. He could feel the rapid puffing of her breath as it tickled his chest and the nervous little whimpers that occasionally fell from her little pink lips, even her heartbeat betrayed her anxiety.

But even as Suzanne shivered and trembled in his arms, it was him that truly felt panicked. He knew that eventually her desire to have a normal life would surface. How could it not? She was brought up in a family, with a lovely home, complete with holiday traditions and generations of wisdom handed down lovingly. And with the horror of Mal's death, that life was calling out to her; making her question the merits of globetrotting around with a noting less than a fence with a decent education.

She would leave her job, he would pool all of his various shady sources of income into one account, and they could buy the little house she'd always wanted, perhaps somewhere on the New England coast. He'd marry her in the little church in the center of the quaint little town. She'd wear a white dress, with something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue. Her father would walk her down the aisle and her mother would cry. Then Suzanne would get a job as a computer programmer at some small local company, or perhaps do some remote consulting work from home as she raised their children. She'd have dinner on the table every night at five-thirty and help the kids in various activities and sports that they were involved with. She'd live the simple life, and over time she would come to love it. Because that was how _she_ was raised, and how she was taught.

And no matter how much that offer tempted and called out to every fiber of his being, he knew he couldn't do it.

Because he _wasn't _brought up like that, because he had no idea how to deal with a normal life- the same thing over and over, day in and day out and feel satisfied. Because if he had a life with her he would have to come to realize the pathetic amount of emptiness in his past, the holes that left him incomplete. Their children would have a wonderful, beautiful, intelligent mother, and their father would never be anything more than the snake oil salesman that had managed to charm her. It wouldn't be long before she knew him for what he was- a thief, a selfish, imprudent thief.

She would come to hate him for everything he wasn't, and for making her settle for a man that could never be what she wanted. Suzanne deserved better than that, better than him.

His throat burned and his chest hurt as the realization choked him with emotion, and for the first time in his life he actually felt an unimaginable sense of crushing guilt as he tightened his grip around her and placed a soft kiss on the crown of her head. He wasn't lying when he knew that he loved her…but love, as wonderful as it is, sometimes is far from enough.

:o:o:o:o

Suzanne woke up early the next morning to the sound of her phone ringing. She slowly slid away from Eames and picked it up, holding her arm tightly around her chest as she recognized Stephen Miles number on the caller ID. Her hand was trembling as she answered it.

"Hello?" Her voice was scratchy and raw from crying.

"Suzanne, my dear girl, how are you?" Stephen's voice was full of emotion, but somehow the kind man managed to worry about her well-being before his own obviously broken heart.

"I am alright Professor Miles," She tried to keep the trembling tears out of her voice, "How are you and Marie…and the children."

There was silence for a long while on the other end of the line before the older man answered, and Suzanne could hear the agony in his voice, "Mallorie always wanted to have her ashes spread out on the beach in California, you know how she loved the ocean. We are going to do that tomorrow- I'd like you to be here. You were one of her very favorite people, Suzanne. She would want you to be here."

"I'll be on the next flight." She answered as she said her goodbyes and hung up the phone, covering her face again with her hands and staring to cry all over again. She took a few deep breaths and calmed herself down before lifting her head to see Eames looking at her; utter exhaustion, and something else, something dark, lurking in his grey eyes.

"What is going on, love?"

"Mal's service is tomorrow in California. That was her father, he really wants me to be there," She trailed off before taking a deep, shaking breath. "Will you come with me?"

Eames nodded and climbed out of bed, walking over to take her into his arms, pulling her into an impossibly tight hug. She buried her nose into the warm skin at the base of his neck and breathed in, taking in the warm, spicy smell that in such a short period of time had come to remind her of being home. He lips came up to kiss the tanned skin gently before lifting her head to look at him, taking in his full lips and his unbearably masculine face. Her palms came up to touch his cheeks, stroking the scruffy beard that was growing in before pulling his face down to hers for a slow, longing kiss.

Suzanne sighed and pulled away a few moments later, "I have to go home and get packed up to leave. I promised her father that I would be on the next flight out." She leaned back in and held onto him tightly, "Can you meet me at my place in two hours? I'll have a cab to take us to the airport." He didn't reply out loud, but she felt him nod against her neck.

She pulled away to get dressed, not sure if they'd come back to Paris again after the funeral or not. It was just another weight on her already tired shoulders as she quickly dressed in her jeans and a knit sweater. She didn't want to think that this place that they had their own delicious little fairy-tale in and held so many wonderful memories would just get locked up and neglected as they moved on.

He was strangely quiet as she walked to the door with her duffle bag, his eyes were distant and the entire set of his muscular shoulders seemed drooped and low. Suzanne stopped at the very same threshold he had met her at a month earlier, and smiled as she remembered the way she had been so frightened and nervous…and excited. It was another way that the man in front of her had completely changed everything about her. Just as she opened her mouth to say goodbye Eames suddenly reached out to take her in his arms, one hand coming up to tangle in her ebony locks as the other arm banded her to his chest as if it was made of iron.

His pillow soft lips took hers in an almost desperate kiss, his warm, wet tongue demanding entrance into her mouth before devouring her with raw passion. Suzanne was breathless when he finally released her, still keeping his forehead resting against hers. She trembled in his arms and looked into his eyes to see the reflection of everything she was feeling. "I'll be waiting for you," She whispered quietly as she kissed him again, softly and slowly. "I love you."

Eames kissed her one last time, cupping her cheek and staring at her face for a long moment, as if committing everything to memory, before answering her. "'Till I die love, remember that."

She turned around and cast one last absent look around his flat, remembering it all, and then turning on her heel to descent five flights of stairs, her heart becoming heavier with each step she took away from the man she loved.

:o:o:o:o

Packing up her apartment was awful.

From the minute she walked into the simple flat she was assaulted with memories of her friend. Everything from their school days came screaming back to her in all consuming, vivid detail. She remembered nights watching movies, doing homework, getting all dressed out to go down to the bars and cabarets, and most of all- the laid back Sunday mornings they would lay in bed and talk about what the future held for them. It was just a few years ago, but somehow after the realization dawned that she and Mal would never again share a conversation, it seemed like a relic from a bygone era.

She emptied her drawers into her suit case and carryon, taking a trip through the bathroom to pack up the few toiletries left that she hadn't already packed up at Eames' place. An absent look at the medicine cabinet had her fondly smiling at the ridiculous rubber duck that was sitting on the shelf from the last excursion the lovers had taken there. She reached out to take it with her, but at the last minute decided against it. There was so much sadness in this place now; it needed something that would bring to mind a happy memory. Perhaps someone staying here would find it in the future and enjoy a delicious soak in the tub with the person they loved.

Suzanne put her bags by the door almost two hours later as she took one last look around her and Mal's place. She took a slow circle around the place and said goodbye to everything, she knew, beyond any shadow of a doubt that it would be the last time that she would ever set foot in the place. No matter how much time passed, it would always remind her of her friend…and the happiness they both thought life would give them.

Tears clouded her green eyes as she took her keys out of her bag and pulled off the iron key to the door that had been in her possession since she was twenty-three and placed in on the small dining room table. "Goodbye." She whispered one last time as she grabbed her bags and pulled the door shut, carefully moving down to the street.

Suzanne looked at her phone just as the car she'd reserved pulled up to the curb at 13 Rue Reaumur. It was two on the dot. The driver got out and pleasantly introduced himself in French, and then again in English as he opened the trunk and helped her to situate her few bags of luggage before asking her if she was ready to go.

"Actually, can you just wait a minute," She answered back. "I am waiting for someone."

Her eyes scanned the street, back and forth looking for Eames. He should have been here by now. He didn't have to pack anything more than a suitcase. Her heart began to race slightly as the minutes ticked by, and Suzanne breathed deep as a cold wash of anxiety and fear gripped her body.

He was supposed to be here.

He _said_ he would be here.

The cab driver impatiently turned to her and explained that he needed to get moving, and if she wanted to catch a flight to the United States she needed to get to the airport. Suzanne disregarded his whining as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and tried to ignore the fact that it was already a half hour after he was supposed to have met her. Her hands trembled as she flipped through her contacts and dialed his number. It rang three times before a strange, mechanical tone picked up- the message simultaneously stopping her heart and shattering it to pieces.

"_The number that you have dialed is no longer in service…"_

Suzanne pulled the phone from her ear and stared at the screen, her phone letting her know that indeed this was, "Mr. Eames" whose phone she was calling. There wasn't a mistake.

He wasn't coming.

Without a word she opened the door and got into the car, the cabbie turning around to ask her if she was ready to go. She nodded dumbly as her chest squeezed and her skin went cold, tears began to stream down her face as the car pulled away from the sidewalk. She closed her eyes and brought her hands up to cover her face as she broke down and openly wept.

The minute her eyes closed, her mind assaulted her with every memory of him…every touch, every word…and then the horrifying truth came crashing down, and it felt like a shot in the gut.

It was all a lie…all of it.

She'd let her guard down for just a moment and lost her heart to a thief…and now she would pay the price.


	18. Epilogue

**AN: So here is the Epilogue of sorts for "We All Began with Good Intent." I can thankfully tell you that this little story has just been the tip of the iceberg my friends : ).**

**There are so many questions to answer! And such a very long road for both Suzanne and Eames to travel…can they get past what happened? As our lovely forger is quoted as saying… "It's perfectly possible, it's just bloody difficult."**

**I hope this piece leaves you with just enough closure, while whetting the appetite for more XD.**

**Even though this isn't the end of the tale quite yet…I do want to take the time to give a special shout out to Winter and Mals, without you ladies this story would certainly have been less…**_**stimulating**_**! I am eternally grateful for you both!**

**Also thank you to everyone who has supported this! Hold on, the ride is just starting! : )**

**As always, read and review loves!**

* * *

_Los Angeles, California_

_2010_

* * *

Suzanne's eyes were blurred with tears as she stared out at the city skyline. It had been two long years and it seemed that the pain of losing Mal hadn't dulled in the least. The memories were as vivid as the day it had all happened, and she was left with no other thought than she missed her friend dearly.

Somehow she had managed to make it to LA after leaving Paris that afternoon on the 6:45pm flight. Thanks to the time changes she was able to land in Boston to leave most of her luggage with her parents, and was at LAX by nine that evening. She stayed at some typical airport hotel for the night, moving like a zombie, not feeling or seeing anything.

The next morning she called Stephen Miles and took a cab to meet him at Mal's house. She'd walked up and said, "hello" to her parents, both of them absolutely destroyed. And it was harder to keep it together when her mother called over Phillipa and little James. The two beautiful children with their bright clothes and their huge smiles, they thought they were going to the beach with their mother- the poor innocent things had no idea what was happening. She'd carried James on her hip, and held Phillipa's hand as Mal's parents spread the ashes of their daughter into the strong wind all of them saying goodbye.

Through her sadness a slowly simmering rage was just beneath the surface. Dom was nowhere to be found. It wouldn't take long for Suzanne to find out from a devastated Marie, that the police were looking for Cobb in connection with what happened. Apparently Mal had confided in several people, her lawyer included that in the last two weeks she was afraid for her life- that she was certain that her husband was trying to kill her.

Suzanne didn't say anything, but in that moment it became clear to her that dreaming had destroyed her friend. Dominick Cobb was many things, but he never would have _ever_ laid a hand on his wife. Her strange behavior left very little question that something had poisoned her mind.

She'd really wanted to stay behind and be with them during this awful time, if anything just to help with the children, but she just couldn't bring herself to do it. She left Los Angeles that night on the red-eye home to Boston.

Marie called her a few weeks later to tell her that she was moving from Paris to Los Angeles with the children. She had come to resent her husband when Dom reached out his father-in-law to plead his innocence and tell them how much he loved his wife and his family- that he would have never done anything to hurt them.

The Miles' had divorced after being married for fifty-five years…just another casualty of Cobb's ambition.

True to her word, Suzanne never went back to Moscow for work.

She sent a formal resignation letter to her boss from a computer in her old bedroom in her parent's house. She stayed with them through the holidays, trying to smile and help around the farm, but for days at a time she couldn't bring herself to get out of bed. It was as if her world had shifted to a muted black and white Kansas scene out of the Wizard of Oz. Food and drink had lost its flavor, sights and smells seemed dim and uninteresting. She surrounded herself with the sedate and predictable. Soon her architectural ideas stopped flowing and her CAD files sat disused, eventually she deleted years and years worth of designs, it was as if whatever fire had burned in her had been summarily extinguished.

It was why she was all too interested to take the job with Credit Suisse when they called in January. She was going to be in Zurich, Switzerland doing software security, sitting behind a desk all day long. It was just what she wanted.

And behind her desk was where she stayed until Richard walked into her office.

Her mother had fought with her before she left. She said that she was "disappointed" that she'd worked so hard and done so much to sell herself short. Suzanne was ashamed at the memory that she'd actually slammed the door shut on her way to the airport the morning she left when her mother told her that she was, "Wasting her imagination and creativity." Just hearing those two things referenced was enough to make her furious.

It sounded like_ him_.

Suzanne took a deep breath and walked back to her desk, taking a sip of her water and pulling out her make-up compact from her purse to look at her face. Her eyes were red and the skin underneath was puffy and wet from tracks of tears, and the normally flawless skin of her neck and chest was stained with blotches of angry red flares. It looked as if the memories themselves had been almost toxic for her body, like she was infected and it was trying to get out.

But try as she might, as she wiped her eyes and reapplied her makeup, she couldn't still her heart- or control the dull heat that was settled low in her body. As if by thinking of him for only moments was enough to bypass the incredible fortress of reason set up high in her brain and allow her primitive instinct to awaken. The part of her that still, after all this time, _ached_ for him. It was something that was pure- free from reason, ruled only by passion and something that she couldn't control.

She couldn't even bring herself to say his name.

Suzanne angrily slammed the elegant pearl cased Lancome mineral powder down onto her desk, growling as some of the expensive make up puffed out. She was _not _going to do this to herself. She did nothing wrong. He'd left her when she needed him the most…because he couldn't give up his life of hedonistic decadence.

And now she was married to a man that she could count on, someone that she could always trust to be there.

Suddenly the phone on her desk rang, signaling that her Executive Assistant Nita Trevedi was buzzing her from the front office. Suzanne instantly snapped out of it and quickly cleaned off the top of her desk, sighing as she lifted the shiny, black receiver.

"Good afternoon, Nita." She answered in the perfectly composed tone that she always used in the office.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Jensen," Nita said calmly, her articulate voice annunciating each word with an almost musical precision. "I apologize for interrupting you, but there is a young lady and a gentleman here to see you."

Suzanne frowned, "I don't have any appointments today."

"I know Ms. Jensen, I informed them of that, but the gentleman insisted that it was rather important that he speak with you today. He says that the two of you have almost worked together in the past." Nita explained. "Do you want me to have them schedule an appointment?"

She sighed as she turned in her leather chair, scooting forward so she could access her computer screens. In a few simple clicks she brought up the close circuit digital cameras in the waiting area to get a look at the people that were standing at Nita's desk. The woman was really more of a young girl, a brunette with brown eyes and a pretty, but plain face, perhaps no older that twenty-five or twenty-six. She was dressed in a pair of simple black pants and a loose red blazer, a bright yellow shirt underneath it and a multi-colored scarf around her neck.

But it was her companion that has Suzanne freezing in shock. He was handsome, with a baby face that belied his true age; tall and thin, impeccably dressed in a flawlessly tailored three-piece suit, his dark hair was slicked back and he carried a silver briefcase in his hand. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her heart rate betraying her again.

"Send them in please, Nita."


End file.
